adition among the brethren who deal with character in
fiction that it must be consistent with itself. This may be necessary in
books, for it sweeps away at one stroke ten thousand mysteries and
problems that play around the actions of every individual, no matter how
high, no matter how humble. How often do we hear it remarked in real
life that the actions of such and such an individual are a source of
surprise and regret to his friends; and how often in our own experience
have we been shocked by the unexpected as it crops out in the actions of
our friends and acquaintances!

For this and other reasons this chronicler does not propose to explain
Silas's motives and movements and try to show that they are all
consistent with his character, and that, therefore, they were all to be
predicated from the beginning. What is certainly true is that Silas was
one day stopped in the street by Eugenia, who inquired about Paul. He
looked at the girl very gloomily at first, but when he began to talk
about the troubles of his son, he thawed out considerably. In this case
Eugenia's sympathies abounded, in fact were unlimited, and she listened
with dewy eyes to everything Silas would tell her about Paul.

"You mustn't think too much about Paul," remarked Silas grimly, as they
were about to part.

"Thank you, sir," replied Eugenia, with a smile, "I'll think just enough
and no more. But it was my mother that told me to ask about him if I saw
you. She is very fond of him. You never come to see us now," the sly
creature suggested.

Silas stared at her before replying, and tried to find the gleam of
mockery in her eyes, or in her smile. He failed, and his glances became
shifty again. "Why, I reckon she'd kick me down the steps if I called
without having some business with her. If you were to ask her who her
worst enemy is, she'd tell you that I am the man."

"Well, sir," replied Eugenia archly, "I have been knowing mother a good
many years, but I've never seen her put any one out of the house yet. We
were talking about you to-day, and she said you must be very lonely, now
that Paul is away, and I know she sympathises with those who are lonely;
I've heard her say so many a time."

"Yes; that may be true," remarked Silas, "but she has special reasons
for not sympathising with me. She knows me a great deal better than you
do."

"I'm afraid you misjudge us both," said Eugenia demurely. "If you knew
us better, you'd like us better. I'm sur