Crisparkle as his own, is to suppose to have done what I did.'
'I ask his pardon,' said Helena.
'You see,' remarked Mr. Crisparkle, again laying hold of his
opportunity, though with a moderate and delicate touch, 'you both
instinctively acknowledge that Neville did wrong. Then why stop
short, and not otherwise acknowledge it?'
'Is there no difference,' asked Helena, with a little faltering in
her manner; 'between submission to a generous spirit, and
submission to a base or trivial one?'
Before the worthy Minor Canon was quite ready with his argument in
reference to this nice distinction, Neville struck in:
'Help me to clear myself with Mr. Crisparkle, Helena. Help me to
convince him that I cannot be the first to make concessions without
mockery and falsehood. My nature must be changed before I can do
so, and it is not changed. I am sensible of inexpressible affront,
and deliberate aggravation of inexpressible affront, and I am
angry. The plain truth is, I am still as angry when I recall that
night as I was that night.'
'Neville,' hinted the Minor Canon, with a steady countenance, 'you
have repeated that former action of your hands, which I so much
dislike.'
'I am sorry for it, sir, but it was involuntary. I confessed that
I was still as angry.'
'And I confess,' said Mr. Crisparkle, 'that I hoped for better
things.'
'I am sorry to disappoint you, sir, but it would be far worse to
deceive you, and I should deceive you grossly if I pretended that
you had softened me in this respect.
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