oded
like bombs in the academic air of Hillbridge. In her choice of a husband
she had been fortunate enough, if the paradox be permitted, to light on
one so signally gifted with the faculty of putting himself in the wrong
that her leaving him had the dignity of a manifesto--made her, as
it were, the spokeswoman of outraged wifehood. In this light she was
cherished by that dominant portion of Hillbridge society which was
least indulgent to conjugal differences, and which found a proportionate
pleasure in being for once able to feast openly on a dish liberally
seasoned with the outrageous. So much did this endear Mrs. Aubyn to the
university ladies that they were disposed from the first to allow her
more latitude of speech and action than the ill-used wife was generally
accorded in Hillbridge, where misfortune was still regarded as a
visitation designed to put people in their proper place and make them
feel the superiority of their neighbors. The young woman so privileged
combined with a kind of personal shyness an intellectual audacity that
was like a deflected impulse of coquetry: one felt that if she had been
prettier she would have had emotions instead of ideas. She was in fact
even then what she had always remained: a genius capable of the
acutest generalizations, but curiously undiscerning where her personal
susceptibilities were concerned. Her psychology failed her just where it
serves most women and one felt that her brains would never be a guide
to her heart. Of all this, however, Glennard thought little in the first
year of their acquaintance. He was at an age when all the gifts and
graces are but so much undiscriminated food to the ravening egoism of
youth. In seeking Mrs. Aubyn's company he was prompted by an intuitive
taste for the best as a pledge of his own superiority. The sympathy
of the cleverest woman in Hillbridge was balm to his craving for
distinction: it was public confirmation of his secret sense that he was
cut out for a bigger place. It must not be understood that Glennard was
vain. Vanity contents itself with the coarsest diet; there is no
palate so fastidious as that of self-distrust. To a youth of Glennard's
aspirations the encouragement of a clever woman stood for the symbol
of all success. Later, when he had begun to feel his way, to gain a
foothold, he would not need such support; but it served to carry
him lightly and easily over what is often a period of insecurity and
discouragement.

I