"Men of action, of deep thought, of strong passion, of sensitive natures, are less their own masters than peasants who take no part in the turmoil of the world. An uneventful life presents fewer temptations, and there is therefore more freedom in it. We live in an atmosphere of wine, and often miss our way. Well, we must be indulgent to each other, and be sometimes ready to say, 'The position of difficulty into which you have been thrust, the error you have committed, the sin--yes, even the sin--of which you have been guilty, may have fallen to my lot had I been placed in similar circumstances. It is not I who will be the first to condemn you.'"
"Even," said Almer, "if that error or that sin may be a grievous wrong inflicted against yourself. Even then you would be ready to excuse and forgive?"
"Yes, even in that case. I should be taking a narrow view of an argument if I applied to all the world what I hesitated to apply to myself."
"So that the committal of a great wrong may be justified by circumstances?"
"Yes, I will go as far as that. The fault of the child or the fault of the man, is but a question of degree. Some err deliberately, some are hurried into error by passions which master them."
"All such passions are natural, although it is the fashion to condemn them when they clash with the conditions of social life. The workings of the moral and sympathetic affections are beyond our own control."
"Of those who have erred with deliberate intention and those who have been hurried blindly into error, which should you be most ready to forgive?"
"The latter," replied the Advocate, conscious that in his answer he was condemning himself; "they are comparatively innocent, having less power over, and being less able to retrace their steps."
"You pause," said Almer, a sudden thrill agitating his veins. "Why?"
"I thought I heard a sound--like a suppressed laugh! Did you not hear it?"
Almer's teeth met in scorn of himself as he uttered this falsehood. The sound of the laugh was low but distinct, and it proceeded from the room in which Adelaide was concealed.
The Advocate stepped to the door by which he had entered, and looked up and down the passage, to which two lamps gave light. It was quiet and deserted.
