to-day might perchance apply to the character and conduct of his own
son. "A habit of facile enthusiasm, not perhaps altogether
insincere, but totally without moral value . . . convictions assumed
at will, as a matter of fashion, or else of singularity . . . the
lack of stable purpose, save only in matters of gross self-interest
. . . an increasing tendency to verbose expression . . . an all but
utter lack of what old-fashioned people still call principle. . . ."
these phrases recurred to his memory, with disagreeable
significance. Was that in truth a picture of his son, of the boy
whom he had loved and watched over and so zealously hoped for?
Possibly he wronged Dyce, for the young man's mind and heart had
long ceased to be clearly legible to him. "Worst, perhaps, of all
these frequent traits is the affectation of--to use a silly
word--altruism. The most radically selfish of men seem capable of
persuading themselves into the belief that their prime motive is to
'live for others.' Of truly persuading themselves--that is the
strange thing. This, it seems to us, is morally far worse than the
unconscious hypocrisy which here and there exists in professors of
the old religion; there is something more nauseous about
self-deceiving 'altruism' than in the attitude of a man who,
thoroughly worldly in fact, believes himself a hopeful candidate for
personal salvation." Certain recent letters of Dyce appeared in a
new light when seen from this point of view. It was too disagreeable
a subject; the vicar strove to dismiss it from his mind.

In the afternoon, he had to visit a dying man, an intelligent
shopkeeper, who, while accepting the visit as a proof of kindness,
altogether refused spiritual comfort, and would speak of nothing but
the future of his children. Straightway Mr. Lashmar became the
practical consoler, lavish of kindly forethought. Only when he came