st
Italian cities and scenes, faces like Moore's; he had heard, in Parisian
cafes and theatres, voices like his. He was young then, and when he
looked at and listened to the alien, he seemed young again.

Secondly, he had known Moore's father, and had had dealings with him.
That was a more substantial, though by no means a more agreeable tie;
for as his firm had been connected with Moore's in business, it had
also, in some measure, been implicated in its losses.

Thirdly, he had found Robert himself a sharp man of business. He saw
reason to anticipate that he would, in the end, by one means or another,
make money; and he respected both his resolution and acuteness--perhaps,
also, his hardness. A fourth circumstance which drew them together was
that of Mr. Yorke being one of the guardians of the minor on whose
estate Hollow's Mill was situated; consequently Moore, in the course of
his alterations and improvements, had frequent occasion to consult him.

As to the other guest now present in Mr. Yorke's parlour, Mr. Helstone,
between him and his host there existed a double antipathy--the antipathy
of nature and that of circumstances. The free-thinker hated the
formalist; the lover of liberty detested the disciplinarian. Besides, it
was said that in former years they had been rival suitors of the same
lady.

Mr. Yorke, as a general rule, was, when young, noted for his preference
of sprightly and dashing women: a showy shape and air, a lively wit, a
ready tongue, chiefly seemed to attract him. He never, however, proposed
to any of these brilliant belles whose society he sought; and all at
once he seriously fell in love with and eagerly wooed a girl who
presented a complete contrast to those he had hitherto noticed--a girl
with the face of a Madonna; a girl of living marble--stillness
personified. No matter that, when he spoke to her, she only answered him
in monosyllables; no matter that his sighs seemed unheard, that his
glances were unreturned, that she never responded to his opinions,
rarely smiled at his jests, paid him no respect and no attention; no
matter that she seemed the opposite of everything feminine he had ever
in his whole life been known to admire. For him Mary Cave was perfect,
because somehow, for some reason--no doubt he had a reason--he loved
her.

Mr. Helstone, at that time curate of Briarfield, loved Mary too--or, at
any rate, he fancied her. Several others admired her, for she was
beautiful as a m