ereof, Richard must struggle on as
best he might without a bridle.

It was fortunate, when one remembers his blinded ignorance, a condition
aggravated by his own acute approval of himself, that Richard had a no
more radical guide than was the cautious Senator Hanway. While that
designing gentleman--the _Daily Tory_ turning the stone--grinded many a
personal ax--_note bene_, never once without exciting the sophisticated
wrath of the editor-in-chief--he was no such headlong temper of a man as
to invite the paper into foolish extravagancies, whether of statement or
of style. As the bug under the chip of the _Daily Tory's_ Washington
correspondence, Senator Hanway was neither a vindictive nor yet a
reckless bug; and the paper, while it became the organ of his ambitions,
made some reputational profit by the very melody of those guarded tunes
he ground.

Richard, you are not to suppose, went unaware of those employments to
which Senator Hanway put him in the vineyard of his policies. He
realized the situation and walked therein with wide and willing eyes. It
served his tender purpose; it would take him to the Harley house and
throw him, perchance, into the society of Dorothy without that dulcet
privilege being identified as the true purpose of his call.

One cannot but marvel that Richard should be at the trouble of so much
difficult chicane. It is strange that he should so entangle what might
have been the simplest of love stories; for you may as well know here as
further on that, had Richard laid bare the truth of himself, Mrs.
Hanway-Harley, far from fencing her daughter against him and his
addresses, would have taken the door off its hinges to let him in. But
Richard, as was heretofore suggested, had been most ignorantly brought
up, or rather had been granted no bringing up at all. Moreover, in the
sensitive cynicism of his nature, which made a laugh its armor and was
harsh for fear of being hurt, our young Democritus had long ago bound
himself with vows that he would accept no friendship, win no love, that
did not come to him upon his mere and unsupported merits as a man. In
his own fashion, so far from being the philosopher he thought, Richard
was a knight errant--one as mad and as romantic as the most
feather-headed Amadis that ever came out of Gaul; and so he is to make
himself a deal of trouble and have himself much laughed at before ever
he succeeds in slipping through the fingers of this history to seek
obscurit