Val, like most men of his class and experience, was forced to undergo strong contests between the vanity occasioned by his success in life, and his own shrewd sense and acute perception of character.

Whenever he could indulge that vanity without allowing its gratification to be perceived by others, he always did so; but if he happened to have a person to deal with, whom he suspected of a sufficiently keen penetration, his own sagacity always checked its display.

No man ever puzzled him so thoroughly as O'Drive, who so varied and timed his flattery, as to keep him in a state of perpetual alternation between a perception of the fellow's knavery, and a belief in his simplicity of heart.

On one occasion he would exclaim to himself or Phil, "This O'Drive is a desperate knave,--it's impossible that he can be honest;" and again, "Well, well; there is too much simplicity there, too much truth unnecessarily told, to allow me to consider that poor devil a rogue--no, he is honest." The consequence was, that Darby flattered him, and he relished it so strongly because he did not imagine it was intentional, that Darby understood his weak points, in that respect, better than any man living.

This, in a country where the people are shrewd observers in general, could scarcely be supposed to escape their observation; nor did it.