to do so. He did not quite succeed in this. His introspection was too acute, and, it may be added, too ruthless, for him to shut his eyes to the humiliating knowledge that he was more and more attracted by a woman of whom he had formed no very high opinion. She was vain, contradictory, and much too fond of admiration. Theoretically, this was the last woman he would have expected to find himself drawn towards. Practically, it was with difficulty he could drag his thoughts into any other channel at this time. And Hatty never helped him. On the contrary, though she abstained from overt praise of her friend, the deep interest she felt in her was often shown in little unexpected ways. His sentiments on this subject were curiously mixed. He was annoyed, and yet he was glad, that his sister, so unimaginative and undemonstrative, should have conceived this admiration for the girl. To the hard, critical side of his mind, it seemed unaccountable; to the sensitive, unreasoning side, it was consolatory. He was not alone. The strange fascination which Miss Shaw exercised over him was felt by his sister, who was dearer to him than any one else in the world.
But even to her he strove not to betray himself. He was humiliated in his own eyes; he would not be humiliated in hers, if he could help it, by acknowledging his weakness. He must wrestle with it; he must conquer it. No strong man should yield himself captive to such a passion as this. The girl had small belief in men; she treated them all alike as sport. With him, indeed, she had not tried; but that, perhaps, was because he had not given her the opportunity. Still, it was clear that his
