( 447 ) 

 THE BARONET'S DAUGHTER. 



Oh ! what a thing is man ! 

 To bandy factions of distemper'd passions, 

 Against the sacred providence above him. 



CHAPTER I. 



IT was on a fine autumnal morning that two gentlemen were seated 

 in the library of Euston Hall. 



" You look upon the world with the eye of a priest, Courtenay," 

 said the elder, as he arose and walked to the window. 



He was a man about the middle age, and something below the 

 average stature. His hair was short and of a sable silver ; but his 

 thinly marked brows were perfectly black, and gave additional fire 

 and vivacity to a pair of piercing dark eyes which were wont to flash 

 with every varying emotion. His mouth was small, and his lips thin 

 and straight, and the singular whiteness of a set of teeth perfectly 

 smooth and even, formed a strong contrast to the almost olive com- 

 plexion of a face, the features of which, although small, were well 

 defined and regular. His frame was well built, compact and mus- 

 cular; and as he walked up and down the room, a leg of still 

 faultless symmetry evinced that the virgin of his earlier manhood 

 had scarcely yet begun to depart from him. 



The pervading expression in the countenance of the other was that 

 of passive mildness, of almost imperturbable equanimity. His large 

 gray eye reflected meditation ; perhaps, anxious thought long ago 

 subdued ; and the tone of his voice was that of one more accustomed 

 to converse with books than with men. 



" I do not look upon mankind merely with the eye of a priest ;" 

 answered Courtenay to the observation which had been addressed to 

 him, " it is because, Sir Robert, I think I know their weaknesses, their 

 follies, and their vices, that I presume sometimes to set forth those 

 divine precepts of our heavenly Master which may at least restrain, 

 if they do not altogether eradicate them." 



" You talk to me of charity and of forgiveness of injuries," said Sir 

 Robert, turning from the window out of which he had been gazing 

 for some minutes, " Charity, it is said, covers a multitude of sins ; but 

 were it not better to give the sins fair play against virtue, and throw 

 away the cloak altogether ? and for your forgiveness of injuries, to 

 forgive is to sanction, nay to license the injury. What ! you would 

 warm the snake at your fire, you would permit it to sting you, and 

 then, forsooth, you would heap another log upon the flame ? is that 

 your doctrine?" 



" I would make every allowance for human feeling," replied the 

 priest humbly; "but what I would strongly insist upon is that it is 

 human feeling, and human feeling only." 



The baronet tapped the lid of his snuff-box. "Gently, Mr. 

 Courtenay, gently," said he, *' am I a fool, or a madman ? neither, 

 I believe ; let me then go my own way. He shall be judged fairly, 

 he has been judged fairly, yes," he repeated, observing the expression 



