both something warm.

We should flatter him in supposing Harry Boyce of a chivalrous delicacy.
Whether the lady's fair fame might be the worse for him was a question of
which he never thought. It is certain that he did not blame himself for
using his place as Geoffrey's paid servant to damage Geoffrey in his
affections. And indeed you will agree that he was innocent of any
designed attack upon the lady. Yet Mr. Hadley succeeded in making him
very uncomfortable.

What most troubled him, I conceive, was the fear of being ridiculous. The
position of a poor tutor aspiring to the favours of the heiress destined
for his master invites the unkind gibe. And Harry could not be sure that
Alison herself was free from the desire to make him a figure of scorn.
Such a suspicion might disconcert the most ardent of lovers. Harry
Boyce, whatever his abilities in the profession, was not that yet. But
the very fact that he had come to feel an ache of longing for Alison made
him for once dread laughter. If he had been manoeuvring for what he could
get by her, or if he had been merely taken by her good looks, he might
have met jeering with a brazen face. But she had engaged his most private
emotions, and to have them made ludicrous would be of all possible
punishments most intolerable. The precise truth of what he felt for her
then was, I suppose, that he wanted to make her his own--wanted to have
all of her in his power; and a gentleman whom the world--and the
lady--are laughing at for an aspiring menial cannot comfortably think
about his right to possess her.

There was something else. He was not meticulously delicate, but he had a
complete practical sanity. He saw very well that even if Alison, by the
chance of circumstance, had some infatuation for him, she might soon