He loved her. But yet--yet--
what if she should be deceiving him? To be able to deceive others, but
never to be deceived himself, was to him, unconsciously, the glory
which he desired. To be deceived was to be disgraced. What was all his
wit and acknowledged cunning if a girl--a Christian girl--could outwit
him? For himself, he could see clearly enough into things to be
aware that, as a rule, he could do better by truth than he could by
falsehood. He was not prone to deceive others. But in such matters he
desired ever to have the power with him to keep, as it were, the upper
hand. He would fain read the hearts of others entirely, and know their
wishes, and understand their schemes, whereas his own heart and his own
desires and his own schemes should only be legible in part. What if,
after all, he were unable to read the simple tablets of this girl's
mind--tablets which he had regarded as being altogether in his own
keeping?
He went forth for a while, walking slowly through the streets, as he
thought of this, wandering without an object, but turning over in his
mind his father's words.
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