He respected himself and made others do the same, or seem to do so, at least.  He had no vanity—­which is but an inordinate desire for those qualities that bring self-respect, and often the result of conscious demerit—­but he knew himself, and knew that he was entitled to his own good opinion.  He was every inch a man, strong, intelligent and brave to temerity, with a reckless disregard of consequences, which might have been dangerous had it not been tempered by a dash of prudence and caution that gave him ballast.

I was not surprised when I heard of the encounter; for I knew enough of him to be sure that Mary’s high-handedness would meet its counterpart in my cool friend Brandon.  It was, however, an unfortunate victory, and what all Mary’s beauty and brightness would have failed to do, her honest, open acknowledgment of wrong, following so quickly upon the heels of her fault, accomplished easily.  It drew him within the circle of her fatal attractions, and when Jane told me of it, I knew his fate was sealed, and that, sooner or later, his untouched heart and cool head would fall victim to the shafts that so surely winged all others.

It might, and probably would, be “later,” since, as Brandon had said, he was not one of those who wear the heart upon the sleeve.  Then he had that strong vein of prudence and caution, which, in view of Mary’s unattainableness, would probably come to his help.  But never was man’s heart strong enough to resist Mary Tudor’s smile for long.

There was this difference between Brandon and most others—­he would be slow to love, but when love should once fairly take root in his intense nature, he would not do to trifle with.

The night after the meeting, Mary cuddled up to Jane, who slept with her, and whispered, half bashfully: 

“Tell me all about Brandon; I am interested in him.  I believe if I knew more persons like him I should be a better girl, notwithstanding he is one of the boldest men I ever knew.  He says anything he wishes, and, with all his modest manner, is as cool with me as if I were a burgher’s daughter.  His modesty is all on the outside, but it is pretty, and pretty things must be on the outside to be useful.  I wonder if Judson thought him modest?”

Jane talked of Brandon to Mary, who was in an excellent humor, until the girls fell asleep.

When Jane told me of this I became frightened; for the surest way to any woman’s heart is to convince her that you make her better, and arouse in her breast purer impulses and higher aspirations.  It would be bad enough should Brandon fall in love with the princess, which was almost sure to happen, but for them to fall in love with each other meant Brandon’s head upon the block, and Mary’s heart bruised, broken and empty for life.  Her strong nature, filled to the brim with latent passion, was the stuff of which love makes a conflagration that burns to destruction; and should she learn to love Brandon, she would move heaven and earth to possess him.