ade it his business to inquire into all the tendencies, all
the antecedents. A high fastidious spirit, jealous, because sensitive,
yet far too proud to admit, much less indulge that jealousy, seemed of
all others the easiest to deceive. The hide of the rhinoceros is no
contemptible gift, and a certain bluntness, I might say coarseness
of character, enables a man to go through the world comfortably and
happily, unvexed by those petty stings and bites and irritations that
worry thinner skins to death. With Lord Bearwarden to suspect was to
fret and ponder and conceal, hating and despising himself the while.
He had other points, besides his taste for soldiering, in common with
Othello.

On such a man an anonymous letter acted like a blister, clinging,
drawing, inflaming all round the affected part. Nobody in theory so
utterly despised these productions. For nobody in practice did they
produce so disastrous an effect. And then he had been deceived once
before. He had lost his trust, not so much in the other sex (for
all men think every woman false but one) as in himself. He had been
outraged, hurt, humbled, and the bold confidence, the _dash_ with
which such games should be played were gone. There is a buoyancy
gradually lost as we cross the country of life, which is perhaps worth
more than all the gains of experience. And in the real pursuit, as
in the mimic hurry of the chase, it is wise to avoid too hazardous a
venture. The hunter that has once been overhead in a brook never faces
water very heartily again.

Tom could see that his charm was working, that the letter he had
written produced all the effect he desired. His host was obviously
preoccupied, absent in manner, and even flurried, at least for _him_.
Moreover, he drank brown sherry out of a claret-glass, which looked
like being uncomfortable somewhere inside. Lady Bearwarden, grave and
unusually silent, watched her husband with a sad, wistful air, that
goaded Tom to madness. How he had loved that pale, proud face, and it
was paler and prouder and lovelier than ever to-day!

"I've seen some furniture you'd like to look at, my lord," said Tom,
in his old, underbred manner. "There's a chair I'd buy directly if I'd
a house to put it in, or a lady to sit on it; and a carved ebony frame
it's worth going all the distance to see. If you'd nothing to do this
afternoon, I'll be proud to show them you. Twenty minutes' drive from
here in a hansom."

"Will you come?" asked