riods of his life when he had
believed implicitly in his cousin Alice;--but then there had been
other moments in which he had ridiculed himself for his Quixotism
in believing in any woman. And as he had grown older the moments of
his Quixotism had become more rare. There would have been no such
Quixotism left with him now, had not the various circumstances which
I have attempted to describe, filled him, during the last twelve
months, with a renewed desire to marry his cousin. Every man tries to
believe in the honesty of his future wife; and, therefore, Vavasor
had tried, and had in his way, believed. He had flattered himself,
too, that Alice's heart had, in truth, been more prone to him than to
that other suitor. Grey, as he thought, had been accepted by her cold
prudence; but he thought, also, that she had found her prudence to
be too cold, and had therefore returned where she had truly loved.
Vavasor, though he did not love much himself, was willing enough to
be the object of love.

This idea of his, however, had been greatly shaken by Alice's
treatment of himself personally; but still he had not, hitherto,
believed that she was false to him. Now, what could he believe of
her? What was there within the compass of such a one to believe? As
he walked out into St Paul's Churchyard he called her by every name
which is most offensive to a woman's ears. He hated her at this
moment with even a more bitter hatred than that which he felt towards
John Grey. She must have deceived him with unparalleled hypocrisy,
and lied to him and to his sister Kate as hardly any woman had ever
lied before. Or could it be that Kate, also, was lying to him? If so,
Kate also should be included in the punishment.

But why should they have conspired to feed him with these moneys?
There had been no deceit, at any rate, in reference to the pounds
sterling which Scruby had already swallowed. They had been supplied,
whatever had been the motives of the suppliers; and he had no doubt
that more would be supplied if he would only keep himself quiet. He
was still walking westward as he thought of this, down Ludgate Hill,
on his direct line towards Suffolk Street; and he tried to persuade
himself that it would be well that he should hide his wrath till
after provision should have been made for this other election. They
were his enemies,--Alice and Mr Grey,--and why should he keep any
terms with his enemies? It was still a trouble to him to think
that he