Rose, Blanche, and Violet, Volume I by George Henry Lewes

"You think me unjust to Mr. Chamberlayne," said Captain Heath one morning to Blanche, as they sat together in the drawing-room discussing the character of her lover, "because you are so young and know so little of the world, that you trust appearances, and cannot pierce beneath them."

"But I cannot be mistaken in supposing him very good hearted, and wonderfully clever."

"He is good tempered, not good hearted; cleverish, but not clever. It is natural that you should mistake the characteristics of good temper for those of a good heart -- most people do so."

"And is not a good temper a sign of a good heart?"

"No, my dear Blanche, not in the least; it is very often only the sign of a weak and indolent organization -- sometimes of mere cold selfishness. You look indignant. I do not say it is a sign in him of selfishness, I only say it is no sign of goodness."

"But what makes you so illiberal towards him?"

"Illiberal! I am merely and strictly just. I do not like him, because he is weak and insincere."

"Insincere!"

"Yes; he toadies your father by pretending to care about Horace and your father's commentary, which he laughs at behind his back."

"It is your dislike," said Blanche, rising and colouring, "which distorts your usual candid judgment. You do not like him, and you misinterpret everything. I won't have him abused. I like him very much -- very much, and I can't sit and hear you talk so of him. " She left the room.

Captain Heath did not stir. He had never seen such an exhibition of temper on the part of Blanche before. She was greatly moved, it was evident. And there could be but one cause for her agitation -- that cause made the captain thoughtful.

The truth is, he loved Blanche, and now seemed for the first time to see that she loved Cecil. He had vaguely suspected it before. This was a confirmation. His lip quivered as he said, "She is perhaps right. My dislike may be groundless. I will try him."

Cecil shortly afterwards sauntered in.

"Are you for a game at billiards," said the captain.

Cecil stared at such an invitation from one whom he had never seen in the billiard-room since his arrival, but accepted, with some curiosity as to how the "solemn prig" would play.

The dislike was mutual; and mutually did they libel each other.

"By George! you play a first-rate game," said Cecil, amazed at the skill of his antagonist, whom he expected to find an indifferent hand.

"Yes, I play well," quietly answered the captain. "I used to play a great deal when with my regiment. But you are stronger at it than I am."

Cecil thought so, but would not acknowledge it. Nevertheless, the captain won three games in succession, which considerably irritated his antagonist, who began to swear at the chalk, to abuse the table, to change his cues frequently, and to throw the blame of his non-success upon anything and everything except his want of skill.

The captain, who was critically observing him throughout the game to see if his opinion was well or ill founded, smiled scornfully at all these ebullitions. He had judged rightly in assuming that the best moment for observing a man's real character is during a game of chance and skill combined. Then it is that a man unbends, and shows himself as he really is. The self-love is implicated; and, as both vanity and money are at stake, you see a mind acting under the impulsion of two of its most powerful stimulants. Cecil, who was both vain and weak, was betrayed into a hundred little expressions of his character; and, as he was also somewhat less than delicate -- without being at all dishonourable -- in money matters, he led the captain to think ill of him on that score.