CHAPTER XIII.

SUCH was Mr. Hardie at twenty-five, and his townspeople said:  “If he is so wise now he is a boy, what in Heaven’s name will he be at forty?” To sixty the provincial imagination did not attempt to follow his wisdom.  He was now past thirty, and behind the scenes of his bank was still the able financier I have sketched.  But in society he seemed another man.  There his characteristics were quiet courtesy, imperturbability, a suave but impressive manner, vast information on current events, and no flavor whatever of the shop.

He had learned the happy art, which might be called “the barrister’s art,” hoc agendi, of throwing the whole man into a thing at one time, and out of it at another.  In the bank and in his own study he was a devout worshiper of Mammon; in society, a courteous, polished, intelligent gentleman, always ready to sift and discuss any worthy topic you could start except finance.  There was some affectation in the cold and immovable determination with which he declined to say three words about money.  But these great men act habitually on a preconceived system:  this gives them their force.

If Lucy Fountain had been one of those empty girls that were so rife at the time, the sterling value of his conversation would have disgusted her, and his calm silence where there was nothing to be said (sure proof of intelligence) would have passed for stupidity with her.  But she was intelligent, well used to bungling, straightforward flattery, and to smile with arch contempt at it, and very capable of appreciating the more subtle but less satirical compliment a man pays a pretty girl by talking sense to her; and, as it happened, her foible favored him no less than did her strong points.  She attached too solid a value to manner; and Mr. Hardie’s manner was, to her fancy, male perfection.  It added to him in her estimation as much as David Dodd’s defects in that kind detracted from the value of his mind and heart.

To this favorable opinion Mr. Hardie responded in full.

He had never seen so graceful a creature, nor so young a woman so courteous and high-bred.

He observed at once, what less keen persons failed to discover, that she was seldom spontaneous or off her guard.  He admired her the more.  He had no sympathy with the infantine in man or woman.  “She thinks before she speaks,” said he, with a note of admiration.  On the other hand, he missed a trait or two the young lady possessed, for they happened to be virtues he had no eye for; but the sum total was most favorable; in short, it was esteem at first sight.