n it,--of low meanness, which I do not understand," he
would say over and over again to his nephew. And then as he would
walk alone on the terrace he would speculate within his own mind
whether Bernard would take any steps towards avenging his cousin's
injury. "He is right," he would say to himself; "Bernard is quite
right. But when I was young I could not have stood it. In those
days a gentleman might have a fellow out who had treated him as he
has treated us. A man was satisfied in feeling that he had done
something. I suppose the world is different nowadays." The world is
different; but the squire by no means acknowledged in his heart that
there had been any improvement.

Bernard also was greatly troubled in his mind. He would have had no
objection to fight a duel with Crosbie, had duels in these days been
possible. But he believed them to be no longer possible, at any rate
without ridicule. And if he could not fight the man, in what other
way was he to punish him? Was it not the fact that for such a fault
the world afforded no punishment? Was it not in the power of a man
like Crosbie to amuse himself for a week or two at the expense of a
girl's happiness for life, and then to escape absolutely without any
ill effects to himself? "I shall be barred out of my club lest I
should meet him," Bernard said to himself, "but he will not be barred
out." Moreover, there was a feeling within him that the matter would
be one of triumph to Crosbie rather than otherwise. In having secured
for himself the pleasure of his courtship with such a girl as
Lily Dale, without encountering the penalty usually consequent
upon such amusement, he would be held by many as having merited
much admiration. He had sinned against all the Dales, and yet
the suffering arising from his sin was to fall upon the Dales
exclusively. Such was Bernard's reasoning, as he speculated on the
whole affair, sadly enough,--wishing to be avenged, but not knowing
where to look for vengeance. For myself I believe him to have been
altogether wrong as to the light in which he supposed that Crosbie's
falsehood would be regarded by Crosbie's friends. Men will still talk
of such things lightly, professing that all is fair in love as it
is in war, and speaking almost with envy of the good fortunes of a
practised deceiver. But I have never come across the man who thought
in this way with reference to an individual case. Crosbie's own
judgment as to the consequences to hims