m his heart, of which as he wrote it he knew
the words to be false. He was an ungenerous, worldly, inconstant man,
very prone to think well of himself, and to give himself credit for
virtues which he did not possess; but he could not be false with
premeditated cruelty to a woman he had sworn to love. He could not
write an affectionate, warm-hearted letter to Lily, without bringing
himself, at any rate for the time, to feel towards her in an
affectionate, warm-hearted way. Therefore he now sat himself to work,
while his pen yet remained dry in his hand, to remodel his thoughts,
which had been turned against Lily and Allington by the craft of Lady
de Courcy. It takes some time before a man can do this. He has to
struggle with himself in a very uncomfortable way, making efforts
which are often unsuccessful. It is sometimes easier to lift a couple
of hundredweights than to raise a few thoughts in one's mind which at
other moments will come galloping in without a whistle.

He had just written the date of his letter when a little tap came at
his door, and it was opened.

"I say, Crosbie," said the Honourable John, "didn't you say something
yesterday about a cigar before dinner?"

"Not a word," said Crosbie, in rather an angry tone.

"Then it must have been me," said John. "But bring your case with
you, and come down to the harness-room, if you won't smoke here. I've
had a regular little snuggery fitted up there; and we can go in and
see the fellows making up the horses."

Crosbie wished the Honourable John at the mischief.

"I have letters to write," said he. "Besides, I never smoke before
dinner."

"That's nonsense. I've smoked hundreds of cigars with you before
dinner. Are you going to turn curmudgeon, too, like George and the
rest of them? I don't know what's coming to the world! I suppose the
fact is, that little girl at Allington won't let you smoke."

"The little girl at Allington--" began Crosbie; and then he reflected
that it would not be well for him to say anything to his present
companion about that little girl. "I'll tell you what it is," said
he. "I really have got letters to write which must go by this post.
There's my cigar-case on the dressing-table."

"I hope it will be long before I'm brought to such a state," said
John, taking up the cigars in his hand.

"Let me have the case back," said Crosbie.

"A present from the little girl, I suppose?" said John. "All right,
old fellow! you shall have it