so bitter, he stormed about the streets, performing antics
of which no one would have believed him capable, who had known him as
the thriving Mr. William Belton, of Plaistow Hall, among the fens of
Norfolk.

But the character of a man is not to be judged from the pictures
which he may draw or from the antics which he may play in his
solitary hours. Those who act generally with the most consummate
wisdom in the affairs of the world, often meditate very silly doings
before their wiser resolutions form themselves. I beg, therefore,
that Mr. Belton may be regarded and criticised in accordance with his
conduct on the following morning,--when his midnight rambles, which
finally took him even beyond the New Road, had been followed by a few
tranquil hours in his Bond Street bedroom:--for at last he did bring
himself to return thither and put himself to bed after the usual
fashion. He put himself to bed in a spirit somewhat tranquillised by
the exercise of the night, and at last--wept himself to sleep like a
baby.

But he was by no means like a baby when he took him early on the
following morning to the Paddington Station, and booked himself
manfully for Taunton. He had had time to recognise the fact that he
had no ground of quarrel with his cousin because she had preferred
another man to him. This had happened to him as he was recrossing
the New Road about two o'clock, and was beginning to find that his
legs were weary under him. And, indeed, he had recognised one or two
things before he had gone to sleep with his tears dripping on to his
pillow. In the first place, he had ill-treated Joe Green, and had
made a fool of himself in his friend's presence. As Joe Green was a
sensible, kind-hearted fellow, this did not much signify;--but not
on that account did he omit to tell himself of his own fault. Then
he discovered that it would ill become him to break his word to Mr.
Amedroz and to his daughter, and to do so without a word of excuse,
because Clara had exercised a right which was indisputably her own.
He had undertaken certain work at Belton which required his presence,
and he would go down and do his work as though nothing had occurred
to disturb him. To remain away because of this misfortune would be to
show the white feather. It would be unmanly. All this he recognised
as the pictures he had painted faded away from their canvases. As to
Captain Aylmer himself, he hoped that he might never be called upon
to meet him. He s