reminiscence of poetical readings): "Ambrosial locks indeed!" A sad
irony, which told that much gold-leaf had peeled away from her image in
his heart.

Wilfrid was a gallant fellow, with good stuff in him. But, he was young.
Ponder on that pregnant word, for you are about to see him grow. He was
less a coxcomb than shamefaced and sentimental; and one may have these
qualities, and be a coxcomb to boot, and yet be a gallant fellow. One
may also be a gallant fellow, and harsh, exacting, double-dealing, and I
know not what besides, in youth. The question asked by nature is, "Has
he the heart to take and keep an impression?" For, if he has,
circumstances will force him on and carve the figure of a brave man out
of that mass of contradictions. In return for such benefits, he pays
forfeit commonly of the dearest of the things prized by him in this
terrestrial life. Whereat, albeit created man by her, he reproaches
nature, and the sculptor, circumstance; forgetting that to make him man
is their sole duty, and that what betrayed him was the difficulty thrown
in their way by his quondam self--the pleasant boonfellow!

He forgets, in fact, that he was formerly led by his nose, and sacrificed
his deeper feeling to a low disgust.

When the youth is called upon to look up, he can adore devoutly and
ardently; but when it is his chance to look down on a fair head, he is,
if not worse, a sentimental despot.

Wilfrid was young, and under the dominion of his senses; which can be, if
the sentimentalists will believe me, as tyrannous and misleading when
super-refined as when ultra-bestial. He made a good stout effort to
resist the pipe-smoke. Emilia's voice, her growing beauty, her