Chapter 5 - Page 2

that had seemed so natural and
proper when he first conceived it, assumed, on reflection, an aspect of
difficulty and almost of impropriety.

But there are times when laissez-aller carries all before it, and Hyde
was in just such a mood. "I'll run the chance," he said. "I'll risk it.
I'll let things take their course." Then he began to dress, and as doubt
of any kind is best ended by action, he gathered confidence as he did
so. Fortunately, there was no hesitation this morning in his mind about
his dress. He was going to ride to Richmond Hill, and he was quite
satisfied with his riding suit. He knew that it was the next thing to a
becoming uniform. He knew that he looked well in it; and he remembered
with complaisance that it was old enough to be individual; and new
enough to be handsome and striking.

And, after all, when a man is in love, to be reasonable is often to be
cowardly. But Hyde was no coward; so then, it was not long ere he put
all fears and doubts behind him and set his musings to the assertion: "I
said to my heart, last night, that I would meet Cornelia at Richmond
Hill this morning. I will not go back on my word. Such fluctuability is
only fit for failure."

When he was dressed he went to his hotel and breakfasted there; for the
"cup of coffee" he had intended to ask of Mrs. Adams appeared, now, a
little presumptuous. In the enthusiasm of the previous night, with
Cornelia's smiles warming his imagination and her words thrilling his
heart, everything had seemed possible and natural; but last night and
this morning were different epochs. Last night, he had been better,
stronger than himself; this morning, he felt all the limitations of
social conveniences and tyrannies. Early as it was, there were many
members and senators present--eating, drinking coffee, and talking of
Franklin, or of the question of the Senate sitting with closed doors, or
of some other of the great little subjects then agitating society. Hyde
took no notice of any of these disputes until a man--evidently an
Englishman--called Franklin "a beggar-on-horseback-Yankee." Then he put
down his knife and fork, and looked steadily at the speaker, saying with
the utmost coolness and firmness--

"You are mistaken, sir. The beggar-on-horseback is generally supposed to
ride to the devil. Franklin rode to the highest posts of political
honour and to the esteem and affection of worthy men in all the
civilized world."

"I understand, I understand, sir," was the reply. "The infatuation of a
nation for some particular genius or leader is very like that of a man
for an ugly woman. When they do get their eyes opened, they wonder what
bewitched