Captain Lake was a gentleman and an officer, and of course an honourable man; but somehow I should not have liked to buy a horse from him. He was very gentlemanlike in appearance, and even elegant; but I never liked him, although he undoubtedly had a superficial fascination. I always thought, when in his company, of old Lord Holland's silk stocking with something unpleasant in it. I think, in fact, he was destitute of those fine moral instincts which are born with men, but never acquired; and in his way of estimating his fellow men, and the canons of honour, there was occasionally perceptible a faint flavour of the villainous, and an undefined savour, at times, of brimstone. I know also that when his temper, which was nothing very remarkable, was excited, he could be savage and brutal enough; and I believe he had often been violent and cowardly in his altercations with his sister--so, at least, two or three people, who were versed in the scandals of the family, affirmed. But it is a censorious world, and I can only speak positively of my own sensations in his company. His morality, however, I suppose, was quite good enough for the world, and he had never committed himself in any of those ways of which that respectable tribunal takes cognizance. 'So that d--d fellow Lake is down here still; and that stupid, scheming lubber, Larkin, driving him about in his tax-cart, instead of minding his business. I could not see him to-day. That sort of thing won't answer me; and he _is_ staying at Larkin's house, I find.' Wylder was talking to me on the door steps after dinner, having in a rather sulky way swallowed more than his usual modicum of Madeira, and his remarks were delivered interruptedly--two or three puffs of his cigar interposed between each sentence. 'I suppose he expects to be asked to the wedding. He _may_ expect--ha, ha, ha! You don't know that lad as I do.' Then there came a second cigar, and some little time in lighting, and full twenty enjoyable puffs before he resumed. 'Now, you're a moral man, Charlie, tell me really what you think of a fellow marrying a girl he does not care that for,' and he snapt his fingers. 'Just for the sake of her estate--it's the way of the world, of course, and all that--but, is not it a little bit shabby, don't you think? Eh? Ha, ha, ha!' 'I'll not debate with you, Wylder, on that stupid old question. It's the way of the world, as you say, and there's an end of it.' 'They say she's such a beauty! Well, so I believe she is, but I can't fancy her. Now you must not be angry. I'm not a poet like you--book-learned, you know; and she's too solemn by half, and grand. I wish she was different. That other girl, Rachel--she's a devilish handsome craft. I wish almost she was not here at all, or I wish she was in Dorcas's shoes.' 'Nonsense, Wylder! stop this stuff; and it is growing cold throw away that cigar, and come in.'