Sir Willoughby and His Friend Horace De Craye

Willoughby shut himself up in his laboratory to brood awhile after the conflict.
Sounding through himself, as it was habitual with him to do, for the plan most
agreeable to his taste, he came on a strange discovery among the lower circles
of that microcosm. He was no longer guided in his choice by liking and appetite:
he had to put it on the edge of a sharp discrimination and try it by his acutest
judgement before it was acceptable to his heart: and knowing well the direction
of his desire, he was nevertheless unable to run two strides on a wish. He had
learnt to read the world: his partial capacity for reading persons had fled. The
mysteries of his own bosom were bare to him; but he could comprehend them only
in their immediate relation to the world outside. This hateful world had caught
him and transformed him to a machine. The discovery he made was, that in the
gratification of the egoistic instinct we may so beset ourselves as to deal a
slaughtering wound upon Self to whatsoever quarter we turn.
    Surely there is nothing stranger in mortal experience. The man was
confounded. At the game of Chess it is the dishonour of our adversary when we
are stale-mated: but in life, combating the world, such a winning of the game
questions our sentiments.
    Willoughby's interpretation of his discovery was directed by pity: he had no
other strong emotion left in him. He pitied himself, and he reached the
conclusion that he suffered because he was active; he could not be quiescent.
Had it not been for his devotion to his house and name, never would he have
stood twice the victim of womankind. Had he been selfish, he would have been the
happiest of men! He said it aloud. He schemed benevolently for his unborn young,
and for the persons about him: hence he was in a position forbidding a step
under pain of injury to his feelings. He was generous: otherwise would he not in
scorn of soul, at the outset, straight off, have pitched Clara Middleton to the
wanton winds? He was faithful in affection: Lætitia Dale was beneath his roof to
prove it. Both these women were examples of his power of forgiveness, and now a
tender word to Clara might fasten shame on him - such was her gratitude! And if
he did not marry Lætitia, laughter would be devilish all around him - such was
the world's! Probably Vernon would not long be thankful for the chance which
varied the monotony of his days. What of Horace? Willoughby stripped