Of course all Saint Werner’s laughed over the story of Hazlet’s escapade. He did not know how to avoid the storm of ridicule which his folly had stirred up. He had already begun to drop his “congenial friends” for the more brilliant society to which Bruce had introduced him, and so far from admitting that he felt any compunction, he professed to regard the whole matter merely as “an amusing lark.” Bruce and the others hardly condescended to apologise, and at first Hazlet, who found it impossible at once to remove all traces of the paint, and who for a day or two felt thoroughly unwell, made a half-resolve to resent their coolness. But now, deserted by his former associates, and laughed at by the majority of men, he found the society of his tempters indispensable for his comfort, and even cringed to them for the notice which at first they felt inclined to withdraw.
“Wasn’t that trick on Hazlet a disgraceful affair, Kennedy?” said Julian, a few days after. “Some one told me you were at the supper party; surely it can’t be true.”
“I was for about an hour,” said Kennedy, blushing, “but I had left before this took place.”
“May I say it, Kennedy?—a friend’s, a brother’s privilege, you know—but it surprises me that you care to tolerate such company as that.”
“Believe me, Julian, I don’t enjoy it.”
“Then why do you frequent it?”
Kennedy sighed deeply and was silent for a time; then he said—
“Not e’en the dearest heart, and next our own,
Knows half the reasons why we smile or sigh.”
“True,” said Julian; for he had long observed that some heavy weight lay on Kennedy’s mind, and with deep sorrow noticed that their intercourse was less cordial, less frequent, less intimate than before. Not that he loved Kennedy, or that Kennedy loved him less than of old, for, on the contrary, Kennedy yearned more than ever for the full cherished unreserve of their old friendship; but, alas there was not, there could not be complete confidence between them, and where there is not confidence, the pleasure of friendship grows dim and pale. And, besides this, new tastes were growing up in Edward Kennedy, and, by slow and fatal degrees, were developing into passions.
Hazlet had come to Camford not so much innocent as ignorant. He had never learnt to restrain and control the strong tendencies which, in the quiet shades of Ildown, had been sheltered from temptation. A few months before he would have heard with unmitigated horror the delinquencies which he now committed without a scruple, and defended without a blush. None are so precipitate in the career of sin and folly as backsliders; none so unchecked in the downward course as those to whom the mystery of iniquity is suddenly displayed when they have had none of the gradual training whereby men are armed to resist its seductions.