He
wondered sometimes whether she had not been made expressly for
him--she was so strong where he was weak, her calm serene
patience controlled his impetuosity, her gentle thoughtfulness
balanced his recklessness, her sweet, graceful humility corrected
his pride.
She influenced him more than he knew--one word from her did
wonders with him. He loved her for her fair beauty, but most of
all for the pure, guileless heart that knew no shadow of evil
upon which the world had never even breathed.
Lionel Dacre had peculiar ideas about women. His mother, who had
been a belle in her day, was essentially worldly. The only
lessons she had ever taught him were how to keep up appearance,
how to study fashionable life and keep pace with it.
She had been a lady of fashion, struggling always with narrow
means; and there were times when her son's heart grew sick,
remembering the falseness, the meanness, the petty cunning
maneuvers she had been obliged to practice.
As he grew older and began to look around the world, he was not
favorably impressed. The ladies of his mother's circle were all
striving together to get the foremost place.
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