the Dame leans to her opinion that 'Carinthia Jane' may have been
seen about London: for 'where we have much smoke there must be fire.' And
the countess never denying an imputation not brought against her in her
hearing, the ballad was unchallenged and London's wags had it their own
way. Among the reasons why they so persistently hunted the earl, his air
of a smart correctness shadowed by this new absurdity invited them, as
when a spot of mud on the trimmest of countenances arrests observation:
Humour plucked at him the more for the good faith of his handsome look
under the prolific little disfigurement. Besides, a wealthy despot, with
no conception of any hum around him, will have the wags in his track as
surely as the flexibles in front: they avenge his exactions.

Fleetwood was honestly unaware of ridicule in the condition of inventive
mania at his heels. Scheming, and hesitating to do, one-half of his mind
was absorbed with the problem of how now to treat the mother of his boy.
Her behaviour in becoming a mother was acknowledged to be good: the
production of a boy was good--considerate, he almost thought. He grew so
far reconciled to her as to have intimations of a softness coming on; a
wish to hear her speak of the trifling kindness done to the sister of
Madge in reward of kindness done to her; wishes for looks he remembered,
secret to him, more his own than any possessions. Dozens of men had
wealth, some had beautiful wives; none could claim as his own that face
of the look of sharp steel melting into the bridal flower, when she
sprang from her bed to defend herself and recognized the intruder at her
window; stood smitten:--'It is my, husband.' Moonlight gave the variation
of her features.

And that did not appease the resentment tearing him from her, so
justifiable then, as he forced himself to think, now hideous. Glimpses of
the pictures his deeds painted of him since his first meeting with this
woman had to be shunned. He threw them off; they were set down to the
mystery men are. The degrading, utterly different, back view of them
teaches that Life is an irony. If the teaching is not accepted, and we
are to take the blame, can we bear to live? Therefore, either way the
irony of Life is proved. Young men straining at thought, in the grip of
their sensations, reach this logical conclusion. They will not begin by
examining the ground they stand on, and questioning whether they have
consciences at peace with the s