f had peeled away from her image in
his heart.

Wilfrid was a gallant fellow, with good stuff in him. But, he was young.
Ponder on that pregnant word, for you are about to see him grow. He was
less a coxcomb than shamefaced and sentimental; and one may have these
qualities, and be a coxcomb to boot, and yet be a gallant fellow. One may
also be a gallant fellow, and harsh, exacting, double-dealing, and I know
not what besides, in youth. The question asked by nature is, "Has he the
heart to take and keep an impression?" For, if he has, circumstances will
force him on and carve the figure of a brave man out of that mass of
contradictions. In return for such benefits, he pays forfeit commonly of
the dearest of the things prized by him in this terrestrial life.
Whereat, albeit created man by her, he reproaches nature, and the
sculptor, circumstance; forgetting that to make him man is their sole
duty, and that what betrayed him was the difficulty thrown in their way
by his quondam self--the pleasant boonfellow!

He forgets, in fact, that he was formerly led by his nose, and sacrificed
his deeper feeling to a low disgust.

When the youth is called upon to look up, he can adore devoutly and
ardently; but when it is his chance to look down on a fair head, he is,
if not worse, a sentimental despot.

Wilfrid was young, and under the dominion of his senses; which can be, if
the sentimentalists will believe me, as tyrannous and misleading when
super-refined as when ultra-bestial. He made a good stout effort to
resist the pipe-smoke. Emilia's voice, her growing beauty, her
simplicity, her peculiar charms of feature, were all conjured up to
combat the dismal images suggested by that fatal, dragging-down smell. It
was vain. Horrible pipe-smoke pervaded the memory of her. It seemed to
his offended dainty fancy that he could never dissociate her from
smoking-booths and abominably bad tobacco; and, let us add (for this was
part of the secret), that it never could dwell on her without the
companionship of a hideous disfigured countenance, claiming to be Wilfrid
Pole. He shuddered to think that he had virtually almost engaged himself
to this girl. Or, had he? Was his honour bound? Distance appeared to
answer the question favourably. There was safety in being distant from
her. She possessed an incomprehensible attractiveness. She was at once
powerful and pitiable: so that while he feared her, and was running from
her spell, he said, from