meanor known as "taking credit." They
never boasted of Robert Acton, nor indulged in vainglorious reference to
him; they never quoted the clever things he had said, nor mentioned the
generous things he had done. But a sort of frigidly-tender faith in
his unlimited goodness was a part of their personal sense of right; and
there can, perhaps, be no better proof of the high esteem in which he
was held than the fact that no explicit judgment was ever passed upon
his actions. He was no more praised than he was blamed; but he was
tacitly felt to be an ornament to his circle. He was the man of the
world of the family. He had been to China and brought home a collection
of curiosities; he had made a fortune--or rather he had quintupled a
fortune already considerable; he was distinguished by that combination
of celibacy, "property," and good humor which appeals to even the
most subdued imaginations; and it was taken for granted that he would
presently place these advantages at the disposal of some well-regulated
young woman of his own "set." Mr. Wentworth was not a man to admit to
himself that--his paternal duties apart--he liked any individual much
better than all other individuals; but he thought Robert Acton extremely
judicious; and this was perhaps as near an approach as he was capable of
to the eagerness of preference, which his temperament repudiated as it
would have disengaged itself from something slightly unchaste. Acton
was, in fact, very judicious--and something more beside; and indeed it
must be claimed for Mr. Wentworth that in the more illicit parts of
his preference there hovered the vague adumbration of a belief that
his cousin's final merit was a certain enviable capacity for whistling,
rather gallantly, at the sanctions of mere judgment--for showing a
larger courage, a finer quality of pluck, than common occasion demanded.
Mr. Wentworth would never have risked the intimation that Acton was
made, in the smallest degree, of the stuff of a hero; but this is small
blame to him, for Robert would certainly never have risked it himself.
Acton certainly exercised great discretion in all things--beginning with
his estimate of himself. He knew that he was by no means so much of a
man of the world as he was supposed to be in local circles; but it must
be added that he knew also that his natural shrewdness had a reach
of which he had never quite given local circles the measure. He was
addicted to taking the humorous view of t