te to come to conclusions, and
substitute some plausible explanation for the truth, found something
in the look of P. at that trying moment to which, none of these
explanations offered a key. There was in it, he felt, a fortitude,
but not the fortitude of the hero; a religious submission, above the
penitent, if not enkindled with the enthusiasm, of the martyr.

"I have said that my father was not one of those who are ready to
substitute specious explanations for truth, and those who are thus
abstinent rarely lay their hand, on a thread without making it a clew.
Such a man, like the dexterous weaver, lets not one color go till Ire
finds that which matches it in the pattern,--he keeps on weaving, but
chooses his shades; and my father found at last what he wanted to make
out the pattern for himself. He met a lady who had been intimate
with both himself and P. in early days, and, finding she had seen the
latter abroad, asked if she knew the circumstances of the marriage.

"'The circumstances of the act which sealed the misery of our friend,
I know,' she said, 'though as much in the dark as any one about the
motives that led to it.

"'We were quite intimate with P. in London, and he was our most
delightful companion. He was then in the full flower of the varied
accomplishments which set off his fine manners and dignified
character, joined, towards those he loved, with a certain soft
willingness which gives the desirable chivalry to a man. None was more
clear of choice where his personal affections were not touched,
but where they were, it cost him pain to say no, on the slightest
occasion. I have thought this must have had some connection with the
mystery of his misfortunes.

"'One day he called on me, and, without any preface, asked if I
would be present next day at his marriage. I was so surprised, and so
unpleasantly surprised, that I did not at first answer a word. We had
been on terms so familiar, that I thought I knew all about him, yet
had never dreamed of his having an attachment; and, though I had never
inquired on the subject, yet this reserve where perfect openness had
been supposed, and really, on my side, existed, seemed to me a kind of
treachery. Then it is never pleasant to know that a heart on which we
have some claim is to be given to another. We cannot tell how it will
affect our own relations with a person; it may strengthen or it may
swallow up other affections; the crisis is hazardous, and our first