But truly in the old man's kindly heart there was no sour
corner for ill blood to lurk in, and no dull fibre for ill-will to feed
on. He kept on meaning to go and call on Caryl Carne, and he had quite
made up his mind to do it, but something always happened to prevent him.
Neither did he care a groat for his old friend Twemlow's advice upon
that subject. "Don't go near him," said the Rector, taking care that
his wife was quite safe out of hearing; "it would ill become me to say
a word against my dear wife's own nephew, and the representative of her
family. And, to the utmost of my knowledge, there is nothing to be said
against him. But I can't get on with him at all. I don't know why. He
has only honored us with a visit twice, and he would not even come to
dinner. Nice manners they learn on the Continent! But none of us wept
when he declined; not even his good aunt, my wife. Though he must have
got a good deal to tell us, and an extraordinary knowledge of foreign
ways. But instead of doing that, he seems to sneer at us. I can look
at a question from every point of view, and I defy anybody to call me
narrow-minded. But still, one must draw the line somewhere, or throw
overboard all principles; and I draw it, my dear Admiral, against
infidels and against Frenchmen."
"No rational person can do otherwise"--the Admiral's opinion was
decisive--"but this young man is of good English birth, and one can't
help feeling sorry for his circumstances.
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