immorality in favour of affected religion, or that the remainder
allowed the most unexceptionable excellence of words to atone for the
unobtrusive errors of a conduct which did not prejudice them.

"It is true," said his friends, "that he loves women too much: but he
is young; he will marry and amend."

Mr. Crauford did marry; and, strange as it may seem, for love,--at
least for that brute-like love, of which alone he was capable. After
a few years of ill-usage on his side, and endurance on his wife's,
they parted. Tired of her person, and profiting by her gentleness of
temper, he sent her to an obscure corner of the country, to starve
upon the miserable pittance which was all he allowed her from his
superfluities. Even then--such is the effect of the showy proprieties
of form and word--Mr. Crauford sank not in the estimation of the
world.

"It was easy to see," said the spectators of his domestic drama, "that
a man in temper so mild, in his business so honourable, so civil of
speech, so attentive to the stocks and the sermon, could not have been
the party to blame. One never knew the rights of matrimonial
disagreements, nor could sufficiently estimate the provoking
disparities of temper. Certainly Mrs. Crauford never did look in good
humour, and had not the open countenance of her husband; and certainly
the very excesses of Mr. Crauford betokened a generous warmth of
heart, which the sullenness of his conjugal partner might easily chill
and revolt."

And thus, unquestioned and unblamed, Mr. Crauford walked onward in his
beaten way; and, secretly laughing at the toleration of the crowd,