it. The reason for
this curious state of things is not far to seek. How can people who are
ignorant--as we see every day--of their own characters be capable of
correctly estimating the characters of others? Even the influence of
their religion fails to open their eyes to the truth. In the Prayer
which is the most precious possession of Christendom, their lips repeat
the entreaty that they may not be led into temptation--but their minds
fail to draw the inference. If that pathetic petition means anything,
it means that virtuous men and women are capable of becoming vicious
men and women, if a powerful temptation puts them to the test. Every
Sunday, devout members of the congregation in church--models of
excellence in their own estimation, and in the estimation of their
neighbours--declare that they have done those things which they ought
not to have done, and that there is no health in them. Will you believe
that they are encouraged by their Prayer-books to present this sad
exposure of the frailty of their own admirable characters? How
inconsistent--and yet how entirely true! Lord Harry, as you rightly
say, behaved nobly in trying to save my dear lost brother. He ought, as
you think, and as other people think, to be consistently noble, after
that, in all his thoughts and actions, to the end of his life. Suppose
that temptation does try him--such temptation, Iris, as you innocently
present--why doesn't he offer a superhuman resistance? You might as
well ask, Why is he a mortal man? How inconsistent, how improbable,
that he should have tendencies to evil in him, as well as tendencies to
good! Ah, I see you don't like this. It would be infinitely more
agreeable (wouldn't it?) if Lord Harry was one of the entirely
consistent characters which are sometimes presented in works of
fiction. Our good English readers are charmed with the man, the woman,
or the child, who is introduced to them by the kind novelist as a being
without faults. Do they stop to consider whether this is a true picture
of humanity? It would be a terrible day for the book if they ever did
that. But the book is in no danger. The readers would even fail to
discover the falseness of the picture, if they were presented to
themselves as perfect characters. 'We mustn't say so, but how
wonderfully like us!' There would be the only impression produced. I am
not trying to dishearten you; I want to encourage you to look at
humanity from a wider and truer point of vie