them up. Nevertheless the delusion persisted in the wealthy
class that an absolutely unbreakable will could be cast; and
so, through the generations, clients and lawyers pursued the
illusion. It was a pursuit like unto that of the Universal
Solvent of the mediaeval alchemists.

He arose and began, in a few well-chosen phrases that carried an
undertone of faint irony, to introduce Ernest. Colonel Van Gilbert was
subtly facetious in his introduction of the social reformer and member
of the working class, and the audience smiled. It made me angry, and
I glanced at Ernest. The sight of him made me doubly angry. He did not
seem to resent the delicate slurs. Worse than that, he did not seem to
be aware of them. There he sat, gentle, and stolid, and somnolent. He
really looked stupid. And for a moment the thought rose in my mind, What
if he were overawed by this imposing array of power and brains? Then I
smiled. He couldn't fool me. But he fooled the others, just as he had
fooled Miss Brentwood. She occupied a chair right up to the front, and
several times she turned her head toward one or another of her CONFRERES
and smiled her appreciation of the remarks.

Colonel Van Gilbert done, Ernest arose and began to speak. He began in
a low voice, haltingly and modestly, and with an air of evident
embarrassment. He spoke of his birth in the working class, and of the
sordidness and wretchedness of his environment, where flesh and spirit
were alike starved and tormented. He described his ambitions and ideals,
and his conception of the paradise wherein lived the people of the upper
classes. As he said:

"Up above me, I knew, were unselfishnesses of the spirit, clean and
noble thinking, keen intellectual living. I knew all this because I read