ulant,
unreasonable, unkind surface; he did not sound her deep resentment and
jealousy; he did not dream of the anguish of the secret cry whose
outward expression struck upon his vexed ears; he did not hear her inner
protest: "I will not have my baby bear his love's name, recall her to
him, be a memorial of her--be addressed with fondness as much for the
sake of old times as for her own, the innocent!--be brought up to
resemble Alice, trained to follow in her footsteps, until, if I died,
my child would be more Alice Boswell's than mine. Never, never!"

Hector Garret little knew Leslie Bower; slowly he arrived at the
discovery. First a troubled suspicion, then a dire certainty. Not the
transparent, light-hearted, humble girl, whom a safe, prosperous country
home, an honourable position, a kindly regard, left more than
satisfied--happy: but the visionary, enthusiastic woman, confiding, but
claiming confidence for confidence; tender and true, but demanding like
sincerity, constancy, purity, and power of devotion. Had he but known
her the first! But a man's fate lies in one woman. Had he but left her
in her girlish sweetness and gaiety; had he never approached her with
his cold overtures--his barren, artificial expediency and benevolence!
She erred in ignorance and inexperience; but he against the bitter fruit
of knowledge, in wilful tampering with truth--reluctantly,
misgivingly--selfishly cozening his conscience, hardening himself in
unbelief, applying salve to the old vital stab to his independence. He
had erred with an egotistical and presumptuous conceit of protecting and
defending the young full life which would have found for itself an
outlet, and flown on rapid, free, and rejoicing, had he only refrained
from diverting its current into a dull, dark, long-drained channel,
where it was dammed up, or oozed out sluggishly, gloomily,
despairingly--without natural spring-time, sunshine, abundance,
gladness, until lost in the great sea.

He had viewed but the soft silken bud, whose deep cup was drunk with
dew,--its subtle, spicy fragrance pervading, lingering after the leaves
were drooping and the bloom fled, but its rich, royal hues were yet to
come. In his blind coarse blundering, he had mistaken the bud for the
flower, the portal for the church; he had entered with heedless, profane
foot, and blighted the blossom and rifled the altar. For the leaves had
been unclosed, the gates unbarred under his neglect; and Leslie, w