rong
stimulant. Hope does not seem to have discovered this, but Kate has, and
I have."

Hope came in, and Harry went out. The next day he came to Philip and
apologized most warmly for his unjust and inconsiderate words. Malbone,
always generous, bade him think no more about it, and Harry for that day
reverted strongly to his first faith. "So noble, so high-toned," he said
to Kate. Indeed, a man never appears more magnanimous than in forgiving
a friend who has told him the truth.

IX. DANGEROUS WAYS.

IT was true enough what Harry had said. Philip Malbone's was that
perilous Rousseau-like temperament, neither sincere enough for safety,
nor false enough to alarm; the winning tenderness that thrills and
softens at the mere neighborhood of a woman, and fascinates by its
reality those whom no hypocrisy can deceive. It was a nature half
amiable, half voluptuous, that disarmed others, seeming itself unarmed.
He was never wholly ennobled by passion, for it never touched him deeply
enough; and, on the other hand, he was not hardened by the habitual
attitude of passion, for he was never really insincere. Sometimes it
seemed as if nothing stood between him and utter profligacy but a little
indolence, a little kindness, and a good deal of caution.

"There seems no such thing as serious repentance in me," he had once
said to Kate, two years before, when she had upbraided him with some
desperate flirtation which had looked as if he would carry it as far as
gentlemen did under King Charles II. "How does remorse begin?"

"Where you are beginning," said Kate.

"I do not perceive that," he answered. "My conscience seems, after all,
to be only a form of good-nature. I like to be stirred by emotion, I
suppose, and I like to study character. But I can always stop when it is
evident that I shall cause pain to somebody. Is there any other motive?"

"In other words," said she, "you apply the match, and then turn your
back on the burning house."

Philip colored. "How unjust you are! Of course, we all like to play with
fire, but I always put it out before it can spread. Do you think I have
no feeling?"

Kate stopped there, I suppose. Even she always stopped soon, if she
undertook to interfere with Malbone. This charming Alcibiades always
convinced them, after the wrestling was over, that he had not been
thrown.

The only exception to this was in the case of Aunt Jane. If she had
anything in common with Philip,--and there was a