There is a magnetism about the coarser villains, a something indescribable and individual too, not of the same kind and degree in all, which discloses their real nature, however much they may try to hide it. As well might a short man hope to appear tall. But the great, successful villains, the keen men, who succeed by their genius, and not so much by force, constitute another class; genial, affable, often very delicate and refined in their appearance, attractive in short, especially to women. Indeed, they seem to work a spell over nearly every woman they meet. Le Roy was one of the coarser class, whose villanous natures the tailor's art cannot hide, however neatly they may be dressed,--and he was much adorned that day. We followed on behind Le Roy and Mrs. Stevens at a respectful distance. Occasionally Le Roy cast a glance behind; but we were occupied with our own fun and laughter, or were busily engaged looking at this or that place, or distant scene, whenever he did so. The conversation between him and her was apparently one of an intense nature, he gesticulating considerably, in a forcible manner, and I noticed that when she turned up her face to look at him, as she did when evidently answering some question of his, there was visible a painful expression of fear of something, and I was sure it must be of him. She kept a little space between herself and him, leading her child on the side nearer him or when the child at times ran on before, I observed that she "sidled" away from him, as if too near approach were pollution. I thought her manifestations unmistakable; and there was in his actions something which was as readily translatable, to the extent, at least, that he felt he had an important victim in his power; and so he had, as the sequel proved; but not so surely as he thought--the villain! Le Roy and Mrs. Stevens continued their walk far down the street, and turned about to go back. I said to my brother, "Engage his eyes as we meet, and I will study her face." Soon we met. Brother stared him so directly in the face as to secure his whole attention. He seemed to wince, my brother said; and I looked into the face of Mrs. Stevens,--how beautiful!--and I was conscious that I must have expressed a deep sympathy, for I felt it. Something told me that she felt it, too. There was a slight flush upon her cheek, and a kindly, prayerful look in her eye, like one needing sympathy, and we passed each other. "You are right," said my brother, as we got well past; "that man _is_ a villain, without doubt. I don't think it is love, or even a desire to possess that woman for himself, which moves him; there's a 'wheel within a wheel,' here somewhere."