perfection; Miss Dale distinguished it in him in the vital essence; and before either of these ladies he was not simply a radiant, he was a productive creature, so true it is that praise is our fructifying sun.  He had even a touch of the romantic air which Clara remembered as her first impression of the favourite of the county; and strange she found it to observe this resuscitated idea confronting her experience.  What if she had been captious, inconsiderate?  Oh, blissful revival of the sense of peace!  The happiness of pain departing was all that she looked for, and her conception of liberty was to learn to love her chains, provided that he would spare her the caress.  In this mood she sternly condemned Constantia.  “We must try to do good; we must not be thinking of ourselves; we must make the best of our path in life.”  She revolved these infantile precepts with humble earnestness; and not to be tardy in her striving to do good, with a remote but pleasurable glimpse of Mr. Whitford hearing of it, she took the opportunity to speak to Sir Willoughby on the subject of young Crossjay, at a moment when, alighting from horseback, he had shown himself to advantage among a gallant cantering company.  He showed to great advantage on horseback among men, being invariably the best mounted, and he had a cavalierly style, possibly cultivated, but effective.  On foot his raised head and half-dropped eyelids too palpably assumed superiority.  “Willoughby, I want to speak,” she said, and shrank as she spoke, lest he should immediately grant everything in the mood of courtship, and invade her respite; “I want to speak of that dear boy Crossjay.  You are fond of him.  He is rather an idle boy here, and wasting time . . .”

“Now you are here, and when you are here for good, my love for good . . .” he fluttered away in loverliness, forgetful of Crossjay, whom he presently took up.  “The boy recognizes his most sovereign lady, and will do your bidding, though you should order him to learn his lessons!  Who would not obey?  Your beauty alone commands.  But what is there beyond?—­a grace, a hue divine, that sets you not so much above as apart, severed from the world.”

Clara produced an active smile in duty, and pursued:  “If Crossjay were sent at once to some house where men prepare boys to pass for the navy, he would have his chance, and the navy is distinctly his profession.  His father is a brave man, and he inherits bravery, and he has a passion for a sailor’s life; only he must be able to pass his examination, and he has not much time.”

Sir Willoughby gave a slight laugh in sad amusement.