creatures with two legs,
forgetting that we have but a pin's point to stand on up there. Probably
the absence of natural motion inspires the prophecy that we must
ultimately come down: our unused legs wax morbidly restless. Evan thought
it good that Rose should lift her head to look at him; nevertheless, he
knew that Rose would turn from him the moment he descended from his
superior station. Nature is wise in her young children, though they wot
not of it, and are always trying to rush away from her. They escape their
wits sooner than their instincts.

But was not Rose involved in him, and part of him? Had he not sworn never
to renounce her? What was this but a betrayal?

Go on, young man: fight your fight. The little imps pluck at you: the big
giant assails you: the seductions of the soft-mouthed siren are not
wanting. Slacken the knot an instant, and they will all have play. And
the worst is, that you may be wrong, and they may be right! For is it,
can it be proper for you to stain the silvery whiteness of your skin by
plunging headlong into yonder pitch-bath? Consider the defilement!
Contemplate your hideous aspect on issuing from that black baptism!

As to the honour of your family, Mr. Evan Harrington, pray, of what sort
of metal consists the honour of a tailor's family?

One little impertinent imp ventured upon that question on his own
account. The clever beast was torn back and strangled instantaneously by
his experienced elders, but not before Evan's pride had answered him.
Exalted by Love, he could dread to abase himself and strip off his
glittering garments; lowered by the world, he fell back upon his innate
worth.

Yes, he was called on to prove it; he was on his way to prove it.
Surrendering his dearest and his best, casting aside his dreams, his
desires, his aspirations, for this stern duty, he at least would know
that he made himself doubly worthy of her who abandoned him, and the
world would scorn him by reason of his absolute merit. Coming to this
point, the knot of his resolve tightened again; he hugged it with the
furious zeal of a martyr.

Religion, the lack of which in him the Countess deplored, would have
guided him and silenced the internal strife. But do not despise a virtue
purely Pagan. The young who can act readily up to the Christian light are
happier, doubtless: but they are led, they are passive: I think they do
not make such capital Christians subsequently. They are never in such
dan