o the house! He tried to hide it and had made Percy like
him. But Bertha could see perfectly well the tinge of jealousy for every
other friend of hers, and an inclination to crab and run down and sit
out, especially, any smart young man. This neither amused nor annoyed
her. She did not think about it.

Nigel really felt, besides, that most cruel of all remorse--_selfish_
remorse, that he had cheated himself in having thrown over love for
money. For his was not, after all, a mere smug, second-rate nature which
gold, and what it meant, in however great quantities, could really ever
satisfy. Putting aside the fact that his wife irritated him nearly to
madness, even if he had been allowed to live alone, and perfectly
free,--wealth and its gratifications would never have made him happy.
He had mistaken himself in a passing fit of despair and cupidity, aided
by the torturing agonies of being deeply in debt all round, and the
ghastly fear of a social smash.

He had a longing to feel at ease; he had a love of pleasure, too, of
freedom, of idleness; and the sort of talent that consists in
brilliantly describing what one could do and what one would like to do:
in sketching schemes, verbally--literary, financial, artistic, no matter
what--with so much charm, such aplomb that everyone believed in him, and
enjoyed to hear his projects, but he had not either the genius that
compels its owner to work nor the steadiness, the determination of
character that makes a man a successful drudge, who gets there in the
end.

Nigel is being rather severely analysed. But let it be understood that
with it all, besides having very great charm of look and manner, wit and
high spirits, in certain ways he was quite a good fellow: he had no
sneers for the more fortunate, no envy, nothing petty: he was
warm-hearted, generous even--when it did not cross some desire of his;
lavish with money, both on himself and on anyone who aided his pleasure,
and quite kind and tender-hearted in that he couldn't bear to see
anyone suffer--even Mary, with whom, as a matter of fact, he was very
weak.

The saint thinks only of the claims of others: the criminal solely of
his own. Between these extremes, there are, obviously, countless shades.
Unfortunately, Nigel had this in common with the worst; that when he
really wanted anything, everything had to go to the wall: all rights of
others, principles and pity were forgotten, everything was thrown
over--everyone pushed