century was that of a land recently invaded by a ruthless
enemy; it was worse than the Norman conquest; nor has England
ever lost this character of ravage. I don't know whether the
union workhouses will remove it. They are building something
for the people at last. After an experiment of three
centuries, your gaols being full, and your treadmills losing
something of their virtue, you have given us a substitute for
the monasteries."

"You lament the old faith," said Egremont, in a tone of
respect.

"I am not viewing the question as one of faith," said the
stranger. "It is not as a matter of religion, but as a matter
of right, that I am considering it: as a matter, I should say,
of private right and public happiness. You might have changed
if you thought fit the religion of the abbots as you changed
the religion of the bishops: but you had no right to deprive
men of their property, and property moreover which under their
administration so mainly contributed to the welfare of the
community."

"As for community," said a voice which proceeded neither from
Egremont nor the stranger, "with the monasteries expired the
only type that we ever had in England of such an intercourse.
There is no community in England; there is aggregation, but
aggregation under circumstances which make it rather a
dissociating, than an uniting, principle."

It was a still voice that uttered these words, yet one of a