some sort, and mentally braced himself to receive it. He
rapidly assured himself that this man had every reason to be
angry, and that he, if he meant to accomplish anything, had
every reason to be considerate and patient. So he faced Mr.
Caruthers with shoulders squared, as though it were a physical
shock he had to stand against, and in consequence he was quite
unprepared for what followed. For Mr. Caruthers raised his
face without a trace of feeling in it, and, with his eyes
still fixed on the glass in his hand, set it carefully down on
the mantel beside him, and girded himself about with the rope
of his robe. When he spoke, it was in a tone of quiet
politeness.

"Mr. Van Bibber," he began, "you are a very brave young
man. You have dared to say to me what those who are my best
friends--what even my own family--would not care to say. They
are afraid it might hurt me, I suppose. They have some absurd
regard for my feelings; they hesitate to touch upon a subject
which in no way concerns them, and which they know must be
very painful to me. But you have the courage of your
convictions; you have no compunctions about tearing open old
wounds; and you come here, unasked and uninvited, to let me
know what you think of my conduct, to let me understand that
it does not agree with your own ideas of what I ought to do,
and to tell me how I, who am old enough to be your father,
should behave. You have rushed in where angels fear to tread,
Mr. Van Bibber, to show me the error of my ways. I suppose I
ought to thank you for it; but I have always said that it is
not the wicked people who are to be feared in this world, or
who do the most harm. We know them; we can prepare for them,