ment, ínfluenced against his instincts. The tone of the appeal touched that temper of trust and of liberality always dominant in him; he hated this man, but to let his hate prejudice him to injustice seemed very vile in his sight; he thought that he owed a wider measure of justice, a more limitless extension of tolerance, to an enemy than a friend; where his impulses set him against, there he felt that his honour should more closely strive for fairness to a foe. A code that had in its results, perhaps, a folly unutterable, yet had in its root a magnanimity scarce less great, and such as men would do well to strive after in giving judgment.
"Trusted, even a scoundrel will quit his baseness. And, if he have ever loved her, he can hardly be a traitor to her," his thoughts ran as he paused there, and heard the measured sweetness of his rival's voice. And on those thoughts he spoke, making the error that costs so many dear—the error of gauging another character by the measure of his own.
"If I wronged you, I ask your pardon. Your jests fell sharply on a heart so sore as mine. You have our Uves in your power; for her sake, hold them sacredly. All the help you can give us is silence. I thank you for your promise of that. Farewell! And
