in the defence of
any ridiculous punctilio."

"Or," added Mrs. Wilson, striving to draw nearer to her subject, "with a
closer veil of hypocrisy, wear even an affectation of principle and moral
feeling that would seem to forbid such a departure from duty in favor of
custom."

"Oh! no, dear aunt," exclaimed Emily, with glowing cheeks and eyes dancing
with pleasure, "he would hardly dare to be so very base. It would be
profanity."

Mrs. Wilson sighed heavily as she witnessed that confiding esteem which
would not permit her niece even to suspect that an act which in Denbigh
had been so warmly applauded, could, even in another, proceed from
unworthy motives; and she found it would be necessary to speak in the
plainest terms, to awaken her suspicions. Willing, however, to come
gradually to the distressing truth, she replied--

"And yet, my dear, men who pride themselves greatly on their morals, nay,
even some who wear the mask of religion, and perhaps deceive themselves,
admit and practise this very appeal to arms. Such inconsistencies are by
no means uncommon. And why, then, might there not, with equal probability,
be others who would revolt at murder, and yet not hesitate being guilty of
lesser enormities? This is, in some measure, the case of every man; and it
is only to consider killing in unlawful encounters as murder, to make it
one in point."

"Hypocrisy is so mean a vice, I should not think a brave man could stoop
to it," said Emily, "and Julia admits he was brave."

"And would not a brave man revolt at the cowardice of insulting an
unprotected woman? And your hero did that too," replied Mrs. Wilson,
bitterly, losing her self-command in indignation.

"Oh! do not call him my hero, I beg of you, dear aunt," said Emily,
starting, excited by so extraordinary an allusion, but instantly losing
the unpleasant sensation in the delightful consciousness of the
superiority of the man on whom she had bestowed her own admiration.

"In fact, my child," continued her aunt, "our natures are guilty of the
grossest inconsistencies. The vilest wretch has generally some property or
which he values himself, and the most perfect are too often frail on some
tender point. Long and tried friendships are those only which can be
trusted, and these oftentimes fail."

Emily looked at her aunt in surprise at hearing her utter such unusual
sentiments; for Mrs. Wilson, at the same time she had, by divine
assistance, deeply impressed her n