“Pleasant hypocrite! And yet, Julia, would you not be better pleased if I could draw and color, and talk landscape with you by the hour?” “No! I have never thought of your doing anything of the kind.” “Like begets liking.” “It may be, but I do not think so. I do not think we love people so much for what they can do, as for what they are.” “Ah, Julia, that is a great mistake. It is a law in morals, that the qualities of men should depend upon their performances. What a man is, results from what he does, and so we judge of persons. Edgerton is a noble fellow; his tastes are very fine. I suspect he can form as correct an opinion of a fine picture as any one--perhaps, paint it as finely.” She was silent. “Do you not think so, Julia?” “I think he paints very well for an amateur.” “He is certainly a man of exquisite taste in most matters of taste and elegance. I have always thought his manners particularly easy and dignified. His carriage is at once manly and graceful; and his dancing--do you not think he dances with admirable flexibility?” “Really, Edward, I can scarcely regard dancing as a manly accomplishment. It is necessary that a gentleman should dance, perhaps, but it appears to me that he should do so simply because it is necessary; and to pass through the measure without ostentation or offence should be his simple object.” “These are not usually the opinions of ladies, Julia.” “They are mine, however.” “You are not sure. You will think otherwise to-morrow. At all events, I think there can be little doubt that Edgerton is one of the best dancers in the circle we have left; he has the happiest taste in painting and poetry; and a more noble gentleman and true friend does not exist anywhere. I know not to whom I could more freely confide life, wealth, and honor, than to him.” She was silent. I fancied there was something like distress apparent in her countenance. I continued:-- “There is one thing, Julia, about which I am not altogether satisfied.” “Ah!” with much anxiety; “what is that?” “I owe so much to his father, that, in his present condition, I fancy we ought to receive him in our house. We should not let him go among strangers, exposed to the noise and neglect of a hotel.” There was some abruptness in her answer:-- “I do not see how you can bring him here. You forget that we are mere lodgers ourselves; indebted for our accommodation to the kindness of a lady upon whom we should have no right to press other lodgers. Such an arrangement would crowd the house, and make all parties uncomfortable. Besides, I suppose Mr. Edgerton will scarcely remain long enough in M---to make it of much importance where he lodges, and when he finds the tavern uncomfortable he will take his departure.” “But should he get sick at the tavern?” “Such a chance would follow him wherever he went. That is the risk which every man incurs when he goes abroad. He has a servant with him--no doubt a favorite servant.”