ough. She's coming to see you, so you needn't bother to go up." He
added with an air of impatience, "She's been hunting in the Peerage."

"Of course she would; there's nothing in that."

"No, I suppose not," he admitted almost reluctantly.

"I can't help thinking I've heard the name before--not Zabriska, but the
uncle's."

"Duplay, isn't it? I never heard it."

"Well, I can't remember anything about it, but it sounds familiar. I'm
confusing it with something else, I suppose. They look like being
endurable, do they?"

"Oh, yes, as people go," he answered, resuming his walk.

If a determination to keep for yourself what according to your own
conviction belongs by law to another makes a criminal intent--and that
irrespective of the merits of the law--it would be hard to avoid
classing Lady Tristram and her son as criminals in contemplation, if not
yet in action. And so considered they afforded excellent specimens of
two kinds of criminals which a study of assize courts reveals--the
criminal who drifts and the criminal who plans; the former usually
termed by counsel and judge "unhappy," the latter more sternly dubbed
"dangerous." Lady Tristram had always drifted and was drifting still;
Harry had begun to plan at fifteen and still was busy planning. One
result of this difference was that whereas she was hardly touched or
affected in character he had been immensely influenced. In her and to
her the whole thing seemed almost accidental, a worry, as she put it,
and not much more; with him it was the governing fact in life, and had
been the force most potent in moulding him. The trouble came into her
head when something from outside put it there; it never left his brain.
And she had no adequate conception of what it was to him. Even his
scheme of marrying Janie Iver and his vivid little phrase about living
with the check by him failed to bring it home to her. This very evening,
as soon as he was out of sight, both he and his great question were out
of the mind of the woman who had brought both him and it into existence.
There are people who carry the doctrine of free-will so far in their own
persons as to take the liberty of declining to allow causes to work on
and in them, what are logically, morally, and on every other ground
conceivable, their necessary effects; reasoning from what they have done
to what they must be, from what they have been responsible for to what
they must feel, breaks down; they are arbitrary, unco