'Work!' echoed Sir John, looking smilingly round. 'Mine!--I beg your
pardon, I really beg your pardon--'
'Why, you see,' said Mr Haredale, 'those walls. You see those tottering
gables. You see on every side where fire and smoke have raged. You see
the destruction that has been wanton here. Do you not?'
'My good friend,' returned the knight, gently checking his impatience
with his hand, 'of course I do. I see everything you speak of, when you
stand aside, and do not interpose yourself between the view and me. I
am very sorry for you. If I had not had the pleasure to meet you here,
I think I should have written to tell you so. But you don't bear it as
well as I had expected--excuse me--no, you don't indeed.'
He pulled out his snuff-box, and addressing him with the superior air of
a man who, by reason of his higher nature, has a right to read a moral
lesson to another, continued:
'For you are a philosopher, you know--one of that stern and rigid school
who are far above the weaknesses of mankind in general. You are removed,
a long way, from the frailties of the crowd. You contemplate them from a
height, and rail at them with a most impressive bitterness. I have heard
you.
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