members of his family inclined to do her injustice.
At least, they judged her harshly, owing, he thought, to an inveterate opinion
they held regarding Lord Dannisburgh's obliquity in relation to women. He shared
it, and did not concur in their verdict upon the woman implicated. That is to
say, knowing something of her now, he could see the possibility of her innocence
in the special charm that her mere sparkle of features and speech, and her
freshness would have for a man like his uncle. The possibility pleaded strongly
on her behalf, while the darker possibility weighted by his uncle's reputation
plucked at him from below.
    She was delightful to hear, delightful to see; and her friends loved her and
had faith in her. So clever a woman might be too clever for her friends! ...
    The circle he moved in hummed of women, prompting novices as well as
veterans to suspect that the multitude of them, and notably the fairest, yet
more the cleverest, concealed the serpent somewhere.
    She certainly had not directed any of her arts upon him. Besides he was half
engaged. And that was a burning perplexity; not because of abstract scruples
touching the necessity for love in marriage. The young lady, great heiress
though she was, and willing, as she allowed him to assume; graceful too, reputed
a beauty; struck him cold. He fancied her transparent, only Arctic. Her
transparency displayed to him all the common virtues, and a serene possession of
the inestimable and eminent one outweighing all; but charm, wit, ardour,
intercommunicative quickness, and kindling beauty, airy grace, were qualities
that a man, it seemed, had to look for in women spotted by a doubt of their
having the chief and priceless.
    However, he was not absolutely plighted. Nor did it matter to him whether
this or that woman concealed the tail of the serpent and trail, excepting the
singular interest this woman managed to excite, and so deeply as set him
wondering how that Resurrection Bell might be affecting her ability to sleep.
Was she sleeping? - or waking? His nervous imagination was a torch that
alternately lighted her lying asleep with the innocent, like a babe, and tossing
beneath the overflow of her dark hair, hounded by haggard memories. She
fluttered before him in either aspect; and another perplexity now was to
distinguish within himself which was the aspect he preferred. Great Nature
brought him thus to drink of her beauty, under the delusion that the act was a
speculation on her character.
    The Bell, with its clash, throb and