CHAPTER X.

SIR MAGNUS MOUNTJOY.


It was the peculiarity of Florence Mountjoy that she did not expect
other people to be as good as herself. It was not that she erected for
herself a high standard and had then told herself that she had no right
to demand from others one so exalted. She had erected nothing. Nor did
she know that she attempted to live by grand rules. She had no idea that
she was better than anybody else; but it came to her naturally as the
result of what had gone before, to be unselfish, generous, trusting, and
pure. These may be regarded as feminine virtues, and may be said to be
sometimes tarnished, by faults which are equally feminine. Unselfishness
may become want of character; generosity essentially unjust; confidence
may be weak, and purity insipid. Here it was that the strength of
Florence Mountjoy asserted itself. She knew well what was due to
herself, though she would not claim it. She could trust to another, but
in silence be quite sure of herself. Though pure herself, she was rarely
shocked by the ways of others. And she was as true as a man pretends to
be.

In figure, form, and face she never demanded immediate homage by the
sudden flash of her beauty. But when her spell had once fallen on a
man's spirit it was not often that he could escape from it quickly. When
she spoke a peculiar melody struck the hearer's ears. Her voice was soft