Accompanied as he was, his emotion took a form which indeed was allied to envy, but had nothing painful.

He exulted in the prerogatives of birth and opulence, felt proud of hereditary pride, gloried that his mind was capable of appreciating to the full those distinctions which, by the vulgar, are not so much as suspected.
Admitted to equal converse with men and women who represented the best in English society, he could cast away the evil grudge, the fierce spirit of self-assertion, and be what nature had proposed in endowing him with large brain, generous blood, delicate tissues.

What room for malignancy?
He was accepted by his peers, and could regard with tolerance even those ignoble orders of mankind amid whom he had so long dwelt unrecognised.
A bee hummed past him, and this sound--of all the voices of nature that which most intenerates--filled his heart to overflowing.

Moisture made his eyes dim, and at the impulse of a feeling of gratitude, such as only the subtlest care of psychology could fully have explained, he turned to Buckland, saying: 'But for my meeting with you I should have had a lonely and not very cheerful holiday.

I owe you a great deal.' Warricombe laughed, but as an Englishman does when he wishes to avoid show of emotion.
'I am very glad indeed that we did meet.