that a good many other people had come in and taken a hand in making
his own life what it had been; and if he had meddled with theirs more
than he was wanted, it was about an even thing. As far as he could make
out, he was a sort of ingredient in the general mixture. He had probably
done his share of the flavoring, but he had had very little to do with
the mixing. There were different ways of looking at the thing. Westover
had his way, but it struck Jeff that it put too much responsibility on
the ingredient, and too little on the power that chose it. He believed
that he could prove a clear case in his own favor, as far as the
question of final justice was concerned, but he had no complaints to
make. Things had fallen out very much to his mind. He was the Landlord
at Lion's Head, at last, with the full right to do what he pleased with
the place, and with half a year's leisure before him to think it over.
He did not mean to waste the time while he was abroad; if there was
anything to be learned anywhere about keeping a summer hotel, he
was going to learn it; and he thought the summer hotel could be
advantageously studied in its winter phases in the mild climates of
Southern Europe. He meant to strike for the class of Americans who
resorted to those climates; to divine their characters and to please
their tastes.

He unconsciously included Cynthia in his scheme of inquiry; he had been
used so long to trust to her instincts and opinions, and to rely upon
her help, and he realized that she was no longer in his life with
something like the shock a man experiences when the loss of a limb,
which continues a part of his inveterate consciousness, is brought to
his sense by some mechanical attempt to use it. But even in this pang he
did not regret that all was over between them. He knew now that he had
never cared for her as he had once thought, and on her account, if not
his own, he was glad their engagement was broken. A soft melancholy for
his own disappointment imparted itself to his thoughts of Cynthia. He
felt truly sorry for her, and he truly admired and respected her. He was
in a very lenient mood toward every one, and he went so far in thought
toward forgiving his enemies that he was willing at least to pardon all
those whom he had injured. A little rustling in the underbrush across
the clearing caught his quick ear, and he looked up to see Jombateeste
parting the boughs of the young pines on its edge and advancing into
t