And with nature will perish art.

What has a hungry Demos to do with the beautiful ?' Mrs.Eldon sighed gently.
'I shall not see it.' Her eyes dreamed upon the soft-swaying boughs of a young chestnut.
Hubert was watching her face; its look and the meaning implied in her words touched him profoundly.
'Mother!' he said under his breath.
'My dear ?' He drew nearer to her and just stroked with his fingers the silver lines which marked the hair on either side of her brows.

He could see that she trembled and that her lips set themselves in hard self-conquest.
'What do you wish me to do when we have left the Manor ?' His own voice was hurried between two quiverings of the throat; his mother's only whispered in reply.
'That is for your own consideration, Hubert.' 'With your counsel, mother.' 'My counsel ?' 'I ask it I will follow it.

I wish to be guided by you.' He knelt by her, and his mother pressed his head against her bosom.
Later, she asked-- 'Did you call also on the Walthams ?' He shook his head.
'Should you not do so, dear?
'I think that must be later.' The subject was not pursued.
The next day was Saturday.

In the afternoon Hubert took a walk which had been his favourite one ever since he could remember, every step of the way associated with recollections of childhood, boyhood, or youth.