which was very good in that part of Mershire.

So Alan settled there, and became one of the items which went to the
making of Elisabeth's world. He was a small, slight man,
interesting-looking rather than regularly handsome, of about
five-and-twenty, who had devoted himself to the cultivation of his
intellect and the suppression of his soul. Because his mother had been a
religious woman, he reasoned that faith was merely an amiable feminine
weakness, and because he himself was clever enough to make passable
Latin verses, he argued that no Supernatural Being could have been
clever enough to make him.

"Have you seen the new man who has come to the Moat House?" asked
Elisabeth of Christopher. The latter had now settled down permanently at
the Osierfield, and was qualifying himself to take his uncle's place as
general manager of the works, when that uncle should retire from the
post. He was also qualifying himself to be Elisabeth's friend instead of
her lover--a far more difficult task.

"Yes; I have seen him."

"What is he like? I am dying to know."

"When I saw him he was exactly like a man riding on horseback; but as he
was obviously too well-dressed to be a beggar, I have no reason to
believe that the direction in which he was riding was the one which
beggars on horseback are proverbially expected to take."

"How silly you are! You know what I mean."

"Perfectly. You mean that if you had seen a man riding by, at the rate
of twelve miles an hour, it would at once have formed an opinion as to
all the workings of his mind and the meditations of his heart. But my
impressions are of slower growth, and I am even dull enough to require
some foundation for them." Christopher loved to tease Elisabeth.

"I am awfully quick in reading character," remarked that young lady,
with some pride.

"You are. I never know which impresses me more--the rapidity with which
you form opinions, or their inaccuracy when formed."

"I'm not as stupid as you think."

"Pardon me, I don't think you are at all stupid; but I am always hoping
that the experience of life will make you a little stupider."

"Don't be a goose, but tell me all you know about Mr. Tremaine."

"I don't know much about him, except that he is well-off, that he
apparently rides about ten stone, and that he is not what people call
orthodox. By the way. I didn't discover his unorthodoxy by seeing him
ride by, as you would have done; I was told about it by some people