thies and antipathies, though no one
would suppose it from his cold manner and general indifference. But I
know him better than I have known most men, and he is less reticent with
me than with the generality of his friends. It was impossible to say
whether he took enough interest in the Carvels or in Paul to attempt to
influence their destiny, but I was sure that if he crossed Alexander's
path the latter would get the worst of it, and I mentally noted the fact
in summing up Paul's chances.

At that time nothing had openly occurred which suggested the possibility
of a rupture of the unacknowledged engagement between Paul and Hermione.
Paul several times told her that he wished to speak formally to John
Carvel, and obtain his consent to the marriage; but Hermione advised him
to wait a little longer, arguing that she herself had spoken, and that
there was therefore no concealment about the matter. The longer they
waited, she said, the more her father would become accustomed to the
idea, and the more he would learn to like Paul, so that in another month
there would be no doubt but that he would gladly give his consent. But
Paul himself was not satisfied. His mother's conduct irritated him
beyond measure, and he began seriously to suspect her of wishing to make
trouble. He was no longer deceived by her constant show of affection for
himself, for she continued always to make it most manifest just when it
prevented him from talking with Hermione. Alexander, too, treated him as
he had not done before, with a deference and a sort of feline softness
which inspired distrust. Two years ago Paul would have been the first to
expect foul play from his brother, and would have been upon his guard
from the beginning; but Paul himself was changed, and had grown more
merciful in his judgment of others. He found it hard to persuade himself
that Alexander really meant to steal Hermione's love; and even when he
began to suspect the possibility of such a thing, he believed that he
could treat the matter lightly enough. Nevertheless, Hermione continued
to dissuade him from going to her father, and he yielded to her advice,
though much against his will. He found himself in a situation which to
his conscience seemed equivocal. He knew from what John Carvel had
written to me that his suit was not likely to meet with any serious
opposition; he understood that John expected him to speak, and he began
to fancy that his future father-in-law looked at h