All he learnt in his father's house was
selfishness, from the example of one, and a love of high life and its
extravagance from the other.

He entered the army young, and from choice. The splendor and reputation of
the service caught his fancy; and, by pride and constitution, he was
indifferent to personal danger. Yet he loved London and its amusements
better than glory; and the money of his uncle, Sir Edgar, whose heir he
was reputed to be, raised him to the rank of lieutenant colonel, without
his spending an hour in the field.

Egerton had some abilities, and a good deal of ardor of temperament, by
nature. The former, from indulgence and example, degenerated into
acquiring the art to please in mixed society; and the latter, from want of
employment, expended itself at the card table.

The association between the vices is intimate. There really appears to be
a kind of modesty in sin that makes it ashamed of good company. If we are
unable to reconcile a favorite propensity to our principles, we are apt to
abandon the unpleasant restraint on our actions, rather than admit the
incongruous mixture. Freed entirely from the fetters of our morals, what
is there that our vices will not prompt us to commit? Egerton, like
thousands of others, went on from step to step, until he found himself in
the world; free to follow all his inclinations, so he violated none of the
decencies of life.

When in Spain, in his only campaign, he was accidentally, as has been
mentioned, thrown in the way of the Donna Julia, and brought her off the
ground under the influence of natural sympathy and national feeling; a
kind of merit that makes vice only more dangerous, by making it sometimes
amiable. He had not seen his dependant long before her beauty, situation,
and his passions decided, him to effect her ruin.

This was an occupation that his figure, manners, and propensities had made
him an adept in, and nothing was further from his thoughts than the
commission of any other than the crime that, according to his code, a
gentleman, might be guilty of with impunity.

It is, however, the misfortune of sin, that from being our slave it
becomes a tyrant; and Egerton attempted what in other countries, and where
the laws ruled, might have cost him his life.

The conjecture of Pendennyss was true. He saw the face of the officer who
interposed between him and his villanous attempt, but was hid himself from
view. He aimed not at his life, but at his o