he does, he does. But, as
he says, you can't please every one and you must before you die please
yourself a little."

Nick's kinsman, whose brother-in-law he was to have been, sat looking
at the floor; the colour had risen to his face while he listened. Then
he sprang up and took another turn about the room. His companion's
artless but vivid recital had set his blood in motion. He had taken
Nick's political prospects very much for granted, thought of them as
definite and almost dazzling. To learn there was something for which he
was ready to renounce such honours, and to recognise the nature of that
bribe, affected our young man powerfully and strangely. He felt as if he
had heard the sudden blare of a trumpet, yet felt at the same time as if
he had received a sudden slap in the face. Nick's bribe was "art"--the
strange temptress with whom he himself had been wrestling and over whom
he had finally ventured to believe that wisdom and training had won a
victory. There was something in the conduct of his old friend and
playfellow that made all his reasonings small. So unexpected, so
courageous a choice moved him as a reproach and a challenge. He felt
ashamed of having placed himself so unromantically on his guard, and
rapidly said to himself that if Nick could afford to allow so much for
"art" he might surely exhibit some of the same confidence. There had
never been the least avowed competition between the cousins--their lines
lay too far apart for that; but they nevertheless rode their course in
sight of each other, and Peter had now the impression of suddenly seeing
Nick Dormer give his horse the spur, bound forward and fly over a wall.
He was put on his mettle and hadn't to look long to spy an obstacle he
too might ride at. High rose his curiosity to see what warrant his
kinsman might have for such risks--how he was mounted for such exploits.
He really knew little about Nick's talent--so little as to feel no right
to exclaim "What an ass!" when Biddy mentioned the fact which the
existence of real talent alone could redeem from absurdity. All his
eagerness to see what Nick had been able to make of such a subject as
Miriam Rooth came back to him: though it was what mainly had brought him
to Rosedale Road he had forgotten it in the happy accident of his
encounter with the girl. He was conscious that if the surprise of a
revelation of power were in store for him Nick would be justified more
than he himself would feel reinst