"Well, it's all right now. I'll take better care in the future," he
thought, his self-reproach extinguished by the assurance that, after
all, he had done nothing that justified the intrusion of his conscience.
"By Jove, she's a beauty--but she's not my kind all the same," he added
as he strolled leisurely homeward--for like many persons whose moral
standard exceeds immeasurably their ordinary rule of conduct, he
cherished somewhere in an obscure corner of his brain an image of
perfection closely related to the type which he found least alluring in
reality. Humanly tolerant of those masculine weaknesses he shared, he
had erected mentally a pinnacle of virtue upon which he exacted that
a frailer being should maintain an equilibrium. A pretty woman, it was
true, might go at a merry pace provided she was not related to him, but
he required that both his mother and his aunt should be above suspicion.
In earlier days he had had several affairs of sentiment with ladies to
whom he declined to bow if he happened to be walking with a member of
his family; and this fine discrimination was characteristic of him, for
it proved that he was capable of losing his heart in a direction where
he would refuse to lift his hat.

At the late breakfast to which he returned, he found Mr. Chamberlayne,
who had ridden over from Applegate to consult with Kesiah. In appearance
the lawyer belonged to what is called "the old school," and his manner
produced an effect of ostentation which was foreign to his character
as a Christian and a gentleman. His eyebrows, which were still dark
and thick, hung prominently over his small, sparkling eyes behind gold
rimmed spectacles, while a lock of silver hair was brushed across his
forehead with the romantic wave which was fashionable in the period when
Lord Byron was the favorite poet. Kindness and something more--something
that was almost a touching innocence, looked from his face. "It is a