. If he is crossed, or vexed, or injured, he cherishes
against the offender a dull, misty, purposeless sort of resentment,
scarcely amounting to animosity, but can not explain, either to you or
to himself, _why_ he does so. Fortunately he is tolerably harmless and
unsuspicious, for to reconcile him would be simply impossible.

Not one _mesalliance_ could be detected in the main line of the
Tresilyans; but there must have been a blot somewhere, a link of base
metal in the golden chain, of which an adulteress and her confessor
could have told. Perhaps the son of the transgressor bore no stigma on
his forehead, and ruffled it among his peers as bravely as the best of
them, never witting of his mother's dishonor; but the stain had come out
in this generation. Even the faults and vices of that strong, stubborn
race were curiously distorted and caricatured in their representative.
His pride, for instance, chiefly displayed itself in a taste for low
company, where he could safely lord it over his inferiors. He did this
whenever he had a chance, but, to do him justice, by no means in an
ill-natured or bullying way. He had resided almost entirely on his own
estates; and, during his rare visits to London, had not extended his
knowledge of the world beyond the experience that may be picked up by
frequenting divers equivocal places of public resort, and from
occasional forays on the extreme frontier of the _demi-monde_. The
result was, that in general society he felt himself in a false position,
and was evidently anxious to escape into a more congenial atmosphere.

Can you guess why I have lingered so long over a portrait that might
well have been dispatched in three lines? It is because, in the eyes of
those who knew Cecil Tresilyan, some interest must attach itself to the
basest thing that bears her name; it is because there are men alive who
think that the broidery of her skirt, or the trimming of her mantle,
deserve describing better than the shield of Pelides; who hold that one
of her dark chestnut tresses is worthier of a place among the stars than
imperial Berenice's hair. A lame excuse, I admit, to the many that never
saw her--even in their dreams.

On this particular evening Dick was supremely happy. Keene had got him
upon shooting--the only subject on which that unlucky man could talk
without committing himself; and, by the time he was well into his fourth
tumbler of iced Cogniac and water, he was achieving a rare
conve