sullen or angry spirit--and little as she said he must have felt she
wished him to feel--that his aunts were displeased with him; but that
utterly unrepressible light-heartedness of his--there was no doing
any thing with it. There was so to speak, "no catching hold" of
Ascott. He meant no harm. She repeated over and over again that the
lad meant no harm. He had no evil ways; was always pleasant,
good-natured, and affectionate, in his own careless fashion; but was
no more to be relied on than a straw that every wind blows hither and
thither; or, to use a common simile, a butterfly that never sees any
thing farther than the nearest flower. His was, in short, the
pleasure-loving temperament, not positively sinful or sensual, but
still holding pleasure as the greatest good; and regarding what
deeper natures call "duty," and find therein their strong-hold and
consolation, as a mere bugbear or a sentimental theory, or an
impossible folly.

Poor lad! and he had the world to fight with; how would it use him?
Even if no heavy sorrows for himself or others smote him, his
handsome face would have to grow old, his strong frame to meet
sickness--death.--How would he do it? That is the thought which
always recurs. What is the end of such men as these? Alas! the answer
would come from hospital wards, alms-houses and work-houses, debtors'
prisons and lunatic asylums.

To apprehensions like this--except the last, happily it was as yet
too far off--Hilary had been slowly and sadly arriving about Ascott
for weeks past; and her conversation with him to-night seemed to make
them darken down upon her with added gloom. As she went up stairs she
set her lips together hard.