in your looks, to tell you anything I wanted to tell you.--I know you,
uncle!" I added, with a glow of still triumph.

"Thank you, little one!" he returned, half playfully, yet gravely. "All I
want to say comes to this," he resumed after a pause, "that when a man is
in love, you see only the best of him, or something better than he really
is. Much good may be in a man, for God made him, and the man yet not be
good, for he has done nothing, since his making, to make himself. Before
you can say you know a man, you must have seen him in a few at least of
his opposite moods. Therefore you cannot wonder that I should desire a
fuller assurance of this young man, than your testimony, founded on an
acquaintance of three or four days, can give me."

"Let me tell you, then, something that happened to-day," I answered.
"When first I asked him to come with me this morning, it was a temptation
to him of course, not knowing when we might see each other again; but he
hadn't his own horse, and said it would be an impertinence to ride
yours."

"I hope you did not come alone!"

"Oh, no. I had set out with Dick, but John came after all."

"Then his refusal to ride my horse does not come to much. It is a small
thing to have good impulses, if temptation is too much for them."

"But I haven't done telling you, uncle!"

"I am hasty, little one. I beg your pardon."