moment—for Carrie had risen, and now fumbled at the door of the pew in the most opportune manner. Carrie said nothing about this to her father; she thought the meeting had been accidental; but when another, and yet another, and yet another Sunday passed, and on each day she saw Phil, Carrie, out of the depth of her honest heart, found it necessary to tell Sebastian about it. She came and stood behind his chair, let her pretty white hands fall one over each shoulder, and laid her cheek against his. ‘Dear sir,’ she said, ‘I think I should tell you something—I think ’tis scarce honest in me to be silent about it.’ ‘Eh?’ queried Sebastian, as he turned to kiss one of Carrie’s hands. ‘I must tell you, sir, that I see Philip Meadowes each Lord’s day at church in St. Mary Minories. I have never spoken with him, but I fear we look at each other most part of the morning.’ ‘Well,’ said Sebastian, ‘what of it?’ ‘May I continue to go to church, sir? I feared you might forbid me,’ said Carrie, her heart bounding with hope. ‘The deuce take your honesty, Carrie. Do you think I can forbid you now?’ Carrie laughed with delight—words after all were not everything. If once each week she could sit and gaze at Philip, a year and a half would surely pass quickly enough! CHAPTER XXIV There is no reckoning with the infinite possibilities for variation in human character, which is one of the reasons why all ‘theories’ of education are doomed to failure. Yet you will sometimes hear the cleverest men and women lay down general axioms, forgetful of this qualifying phrase, that may upset the entire calculation. Richard Meadowes—in other matters a man of considerable acuteness, fell into this common snare. The axiom which misled him was one which has been accepted—well-nigh proven by half the world: that youth is fickle and forgetful. Given fresh interests, new playthings, the young man does not live (said he) who will not soon forget what so lately charmed him most. Well, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred this may be true; but that elusive hundredth case must also be reckoned with if one would make certain. ‘Phil must go into society and see other women; ere six months are passed he will never give another thought to this Caroline Shepley,’ said the prudent parent, who had indeed, on his way through the world, seen many a man forget. Phil showed scant desire for society; he declared his inclinations lay rather in the way of study, and expressed a special yearning for legal research. But his father opposed this with wise moderation.