make conquest of a good half of the world, for good or for ill. Sir
Austin had this gift. He spoke as if he saw the truth, and, persisting
in it so long, he was accredited by those who did not understand him, and
silenced them that did.

"We shall see," was all the argument left to Dr. Clifford, and other
unbelievers.

So far certainly the experiment had succeeded. A comelier, bracer,
better boy was nowhere to be met. His promise was undeniable. The
vessel, too, though it lay now in harbour and had not yet been proved by
the buffets of the elements on the great ocean, had made a good trial
trip, and got well through stormy weather, as the records of the Bakewell
Comedy witnessed to at Raynham. No augury could be hopefuller. The
Fates must indeed be hard, the Ordeal severe, the Destiny dark, that
could destroy so bright a Spring! But, bright as it was, the baronet
relaxed nothing of his vigilant supervision. He said to his intimates:
"Every act, every fostered inclination, almost every thought, in this
Blossoming Season, bears its seed for the Future. The living Tree now
requires incessant watchfulness." And, acting up to his light, Sir Austin
did watch. The youth submitted to an examination every night before he
sought his bed; professedly to give an account of his studies, but really
to recapitulate his moral experiences of the day. He could do so, for he
was pure. Any wildness in him that his father noted, any remoteness or
richness of fancy in his expressions, was set down as incidental to the
Blossoming Season. There is nothing like a theory for binding the wise.
Sir Austin, despite his rigid watch and ward, knew less of his son than
the servant of his household. And he was deaf, as well as blind. Adrian
thought it his duty to tell him that the youth was consuming paper. Lady
Blandish likewise hinted at his mooning propensities. Sir Austin from