urned within him with indignation and resentment; and his disgust at
his other guest was, if less intense, an equally painful sensation. It
was hard to waste his strength, and perhaps compromise his character,
for such men as these; but on the other hand he saw his father, with
that malady of the Wentworths hanging over his head, doing his best to
live and last, like a courageous English gentleman as he was, for the
sake of "the girls" and the little children, who had so little to
expect from Jack; and poor stupid Mr Wodehouse dying of the crime
which assailed his own credit as well as his son's safety. The Curate
of St Roque's drew a long breath, and raised himself up unconsciously
to his full height as he rose to go up-stairs. It was he against the
world at the moment, as it appeared. He set himself to his uncongenial
work with a heart that revolted against the evil cause of which he was
about to constitute himself the champion. But for the Squire, who had
misjudged him--for Lucy who had received him with such icy smiles, and
closed up her heart against his entrance;--sometimes there is a kind
of bitter sweetness in the thought of spending love and life in one
lavish and prodigal outburst upon those to whom our hearts are bound,
but whose affections make us no return.

CHAPTER XXIII.

The Curate went to breakfast next morning with a little curiosity and
a great deal of painful feeling. He had been inhospitable to his
brother, and a revulsion had happened such as happens invariably when
a generous man is forced by external circumstances to show himself
churlish. Though his good sense and his pride alike prevented him
from changing his resolution of the previous night, still his heart
had relented toward Jack, and he felt sorry and half ashamed to meet
the brother to whom he had shown so much temper and so little
kindness. It was much later than usual when he came down-stairs, and
Jack was just coming out of the comfortable chamber which belonged of
right to his brother, when the Curate entered the sitting-room. Jack
was in his dressing-gown, as on the previous night, and came forth
humming an air out of the 'Trovatore,' and looking as wholesomely
fresh and clean and dainty as the most honest gentleman in England. He
gave his brother a good-humoured nod, and wished him good morning. "I
am glad to see you don't keep distressingly early hours," he said,
between the bars of the air he was humming. He was a man of