er blood than the hero; but his heart was good.
By the time he had got a little warmth about him, his heart gratefully
strove to encourage him in the conception of becoming a knight and a
Titan; and so striving Ripton fell asleep and dreamed.

CHAPTER XXXVII

Behold the hero embarked in the redemption of an erring beautiful woman.

"Alas!" writes the Pilgrim at this very time to Lady Blandish, "I cannot
get that legend of the Serpent from me, the more I think. Has he not
caught you, and ranked you foremost in his legions? For see: till you
were fashioned, the fruits hung immobile on the boughs. They swayed
before us, glistening and cold. The hand must be eager that plucked
them. They did not come down to us, and smile, and speak our language,
and read our thoughts, and know when to fly, when to follow! how surely
to have us!

"Do but mark one of you standing openly in the track of the Serpent.
What shall be done with her? I fear the world is wiser than its judges!
Turn from her, says the world. By day the sons of the world do. It
darkens, and they dance together downward. Then comes there one of the
world's elect who deems old counsel devilish; indifference to the end of
evil worse than its pursuit. He comes to reclaim her. From deepest bane
will he bring her back to highest blessing. Is not that a bait already?
Poor fish! 'tis wondrous flattering. The Serpent has slimed her so to
secure him! With slow weary steps he draws her into light: she clings
to him; she is human; part of his work, and he loves it. As they mount
upward, he looks on her more, while she, it may be, looks above. What
has touched him? What has passed out of her, and into him? The Serpent
laughs below. At the gateways of the Sun they fall together!"

This alliterative production was written without any sense of the peril
that makes prophecy.

It suited Sir Austin to write thus. It was a channel to his acrimony
moderated through his philosophy. The letter was a reply to a vehement
entreaty from Lady Blandish for him to come up to Richard and forgive
him thoroughly: Richard's name was not mentioned in it.

"He tries to be more than he is," thought the lady: and she began
insensibly to conceive him less than he was.

The baronet was conscious of a certain false gratification in his
son's apparent obedience to his wishes and complete submission; a
gratification he chose to accept as his due, without dissecting or
accounting for it. The inte