when she observed how cunningly he endeavoured to excite her sympathy
towards him, she began to suspect that he meant something more than a
mere diversion for himself. He spoke so feelingly of his lonely position
in the world; to accentuate which, he spoke of his father without any
feeling whatever. He represented himself as so drearily lonely and
friendless in this hard-hearted, thorny world. Quite a little lamb was
Silas, leaving shreds of his pure white wool rent off and clinging to
the briars of his solitary life-journey. He was very patient in his
sufferings, he said, for he so keenly felt that coarser natures could
not suffer as he did; that troubles glided from their backs like water
from the feathers of the draggled but happy goose, whereas on his tender
heart they struck deep like a fiery rain. Was it not Danty who told of
those poor people who were exposed to the molten drizzle? Ah yes! Danty
knew, of course, for he had been a great sufferer. What a beautiful, yet
sad, word is that, "to suffer"! How gentle and lovely to suffer without
complaint! Had the Countess ever thought of it? To suffer silently--and
long--(here Silas cast a love-sick glance out of his small dark
eyes)--with the hope of gaining an object infinitely far removed,
but--(another glance)--infinitely beautiful and worth obtaining. Oh!
Silas would suffer for ever in such a hope! There was nothing Silas
would not do that was saintly that he might gain heaven.

After a time, Margaret, who disliked this kind of talk intensely, began
to look grave, an omen which Barker did not fail to interpret to his
advantage, for it is a step gained when a woman begins to be serious.
Only a man ignorant of Margaret's real character, and incapable of
appreciating it, could have been so deceived in this case. She had felt
strongly that Barker had saved her life, and that he had acted with a
boldness and determination on that occasion which would have merited her
admiration even had it not commanded her gratitude. But she was really
grateful, and, wishing to show it, could devise no better plan than to
receive his visits and to listen politely to his conversation.

One day, late in the afternoon, they were sitting together over a cup of
tea, and Barker was pouring out his experiences, or what he was pleased
to call by that name, for they were not genuine. Not that his own
existence would have been a dull or uninteresting chapter for a rainy
afternoon, for Barker ha