, weak attempt at
virtue, the vigorous energy of vice,--it is hearing this sad tale from
day to day, learning, in what are called the purest natures, how deep
the well of corruption lies, and that not one generous thought, one
noble aspiration, or one holy desire rises unalloyed by some base
admixture of worldly motive. It is thus armed we go forth into the
world, to fight against the wiles and seductions of life. How can we be
deceived by the blandishments that seduce others? What avail to us those
pretentious displays of self-devotion, those sacrifices of wealth, those
proud acts of munificence which astonish the world, but of whose secret
springs we are conversant? What wonder, then, if I have read the artless
nature of a boy like that, or see in him the springs of an ambition he
knows not of himself? Nay, it would be no rash boast to say that I have
deciphered more complicated inscriptions than those upon his heart I
have traced some upon his sister's!" The last three words he uttered
with a slow and deep enunciation, leaving a pause between each, and
bending on her a look of intense meaning.

Kate's cheek became scarlet, then pale, and a second time she flushed,
till neck and shoulders grew crimson together.

"You have no confidences to make me, my dear, dear child," said
D'Esmonde, as, taking her hand, he pressed her down on a sofa
beside him. "Your faltering lips have nothing to articulate,----no
self-repinings, no sorrows to utter; for I know them all!" He paused for
a few seconds, and then resumed: "Nor have you to fear me as a stern or
a merciless judge. Where there is a sacrifice, there is a blessing!"

Kate held down her head, but her bosom heaved, and her frame trembled
with emotion.

"Your motives," resumed he, "would dignify even a rasher course. I know
the price at which you have bartered happiness,--not your own only, but
another's with it!"

She sobbed violently, and pressed her hands over her face.

"Poor, poor fellow!" cried he, as if borne away by an impulse of candor
that would brook no concealment, "how I grieved to see him, separated,
as we were, by the wide and yawning gulf between us, giving himself
up to the very recklessness of despair, now cursing the heartless
dissipation in which his life was lost, now accusing himself of
golden opportunities neglected, bright moments squandered, petty
misunderstandings exaggerated into dislikes, the passing coldness of the
moment exalted into a stu