He felt like walking on tiptoe, not to arouse the sleeping shadows.

He felt, indeed, almost like saying that they might have their own way later, if they would only allow to these first few days the clear light of ardent contemplation.

For Rowland at last was ardent, and all the bells within his soul were ringing bravely in jubilee.

Roderick, he learned, had been the whole day with his mother, and had evidently responded to her purest trust.
He appeared to her appealing eyes still unspotted by the world.

That is what it is, thought Rowland, to be "gifted," to escape not only the superficial, but the intrinsic penalties of misconduct.