CHAPTER VIII.
THE PRIVILEGE OF GENIUS.--LESTER'S SATISFACTION AT THE ASPECT
OF EVENTS.--HIS CONVERSATION WITH WALTER.--A DISCOVERY.
"Alc.--I am for Lidian:
This accident no doubt will draw him from his hermit's life!
"Lis.--Spare my grief, and apprehend
What I should speak."
--Beaumont and Fletcher.--The Lovers' Progress.
In the course of the various conversations our family of Grassdale
enjoyed with their singular neighbour, it appeared that his knowledge had
not been confined to the closet; at times, he dropped remarks which
shewed that he had been much among cities, and travelled with the design,
or at least with the vigilance, of the observer; but he did not love to
be drawn into any detailed accounts of what he had seen, or whither he
had been; an habitual though a gentle reserve, kept watch over the past--
not indeed that character of reserve which excites the doubt, but which
inspires the interest. His most gloomy moods were rather abrupt and
fitful than morose, and his usual bearing was calm, soft, and even
tender.
There is a certain charm about great superiority of intellect, that winds
into deep affections which a much more constant and even amiability of
manners in lesser men, often fails to reach. Genius makes many enemies,
but it makes sure friends--friends who forgive much, who endure long, who
exact little; they partake of the character of disciples as well as
friends. There lingers about the human heart a strong inclination to look
upward--to revere: in this inclination lies the source of religion, of
loyalty, and also of the worship and immortality which are rendered so
cheerfully to the great of old. And in truth, it is a divine pleasure to
admire! admiration seems in some measure to appropriate to ourselves the
qualities it honours in others. We wed,--we root ourselves to the natures
we so love to contemplate, and their life grows a part of our own. Thus,
when a great man, who has engrossed our thoughts, our conjectures, our
homage, dies, a gap seems suddenly left in the world; a wheel in the
mechanism of our own being appears abruptly stilled; a portion of
ourselves, and not our worst portion, for how many pure, high, generous
sentiments it contains, dies with him! Yes! it is this love, so rare, so
exalted, and so denied to all ordinary men, which is the especial
privilege of greatness, whether that greatness be shewn in wisdom, in
enterprise, in virtue, or even, till the world learns better, in the more
daring and lofty order of crime. A Socrates may claim it to-day--a
Napoleon to-morrow; nay, a brigand chief, illustrious in the circle in
which he lives, may call it forth no less powerfully than the generous
failings of a Byron, or the sublime excellence of the greater Milton.
Lester saw with evident complacency the passion growing up between his
friend and his daughter; he looked upon it as a tie that would
permanently reconcile Aram to the hearth of social and domestic life; a
tie that would constitute the happiness of his daughter, and secure to
himself a relation in the man he felt most inclined, of all he knew, to
honour and esteem. He remarked in the gentleness and calm temper of Aram
much that was calculated to ensure domestic peace, and knowing the
peculiar disposition of Madeline, he felt that she was exactly the
person, not only to bear with the peculiarities of the Student, but to
venerate their source. In short, the more he contemplated the idea of
this alliance, the more he was charmed with its probability.
Musing on this subject, the good Squire was one day walking in his
garden, when he perceived his nephew at some distance, and remarked that
Walter, on seeing him, was about, instead of coming forward to meet him,
to turn down an alley in an opposite direction.
A little pained at this, and remembering that Walter had of late seemed
estranged from himself, and greatly altered from the high and cheerful
spirits natural to his temper, Lester called to his nephew; and Walter,
reluctantly and slowly changing his purpose of avoidance, advanced and
met him.
"Why, Walter!" said the uncle, taking his arm; "this is somewhat unkind,
to shun me; are you engaged in any pursuit that requires secrecy or
haste?"
"No, indeed, Sir!" said Walter, with some embarrassment; "but I thought
you seemed wrapped in reflection, and would naturally dislike being
disturbed."
"Hem! as to that, I have no reflections I wish concealed from you,
Walter, or which might not be benefited by your advice." The youth
pressed his uncle's hand, but made no reply; and Lester, after a pause,
continued:--
"You seem, Walter, I am most delighted to think, entirely to have
overcome the little unfavourable prepossession which at first you
testified towards our excellent neighbour. And for my part, I think he
appears to be especially attracted towards yourself, he seeks your
company; and to me he always speaks of you in terms, which, coming from
such a quarter, give me the most lively gratification."
Walter bowed his head, but not in the delighted vanity with which a young
man generally receives the assurance of another's praise.
"I own," renewed Lester, "that I consider our friendship with Aram one of
the most fortunate occurrences in my life; at least," added he with a
sigh, "of late years. I doubt not but you must have observed the
partiality with which our dear Madeline evidently regards him; and yet
more, the attachment to her, which breaks forth from Aram, in spite of
his habitual reserve and self-control. You have surely noted this,
Walter?"
"I have," said Walter, in a low tone, and turning away his head.
"And doubtless you share my satisfaction. It happens fortunately now,
that Madeline early contracted that studious and thoughtful turn, which I
must own at one time gave me some uneasiness and vexation. It has taught
her to appreciate the value of a mind like Aram's. Formerly, my dear boy,
I hoped that at one time or another, she and yourself might form a dearer
connection than that of cousins. But I was disappointed, and I am now
consoled. And indeed I think there is that in Ellinor which might be yet
more calculated to render you happy; that is, if the bias of your mind
should ever lean that way."
"You are very good," said Walter, bitterly. "I own I am not flattered by
your selection; nor do I see why the plainest and least brilliant of the
two sisters must necessarily be the fittest for me."
"Nay," replied Lester, piqued, and justly angry, "I do not think, even if
Madeline have the advantage of her sister, that you can find any fault
with the personal or mental attractions of Ellinor. But indeed this is
not a matter in which relations should interfere. I am far from any wish
to prevent you from choosing throughout the world any one whom you may
prefer. All I hope is, that your future wife will be like Ellinor in
kindness of heart and sweetness of temper."
"From choosing throughout the world!" repeated Walter; "and how in this
nook am I to see the world?"
"Walter! your voice is reproachful!--do I deserve it?"
Walter was silent.
"I have of late observed," continued Lester, "and with wounded feelings,
that you do not give me the same confidence, or meet me with the same
affection, that you once delighted me by manifesting towards me. I know
of no cause for this change. Do not let us, my son, for I may so call
you--do not let us, as we grow older, grow also more apart. Time divides
with a sufficient demarcation the young from the old; why deepen the
necessary line? You know well, that I have never from your childhood
insisted heavily on a guardian's authority. I have always loved to
contribute to your enjoyments, and shewn you how devoted I am to your
interests, by the very frankness with which I have consulted you on my
own. If there be now on your mind any secret grievance, or any secret
wish, speak it, Walter:--you are alone with the friend on earth who loves
you best!"
Walter was wholly overcome by this address: he pressed his good uncle's
hand to his lips, and it was some moments before he mustered self-
composure sufficient to reply.
"You have ever, ever been to me all that the kindest parent, the
tenderest friend could have been:--believe me, I am not ungrateful. If of
late I have been altered, the cause is not in you. Let me speak freely:
you encourage me to do so. I am young, my temper is restless; I have a
love of enterprise and adventure: is it not natural that I should long to
see the world? This is the cause of my late abstraction of mind. I have
now told you all: it is for you to decide."
Lester looked wistfully on his nephew's countenance before he replied--
"It is as I gathered," said he, "from various remarks which you have
lately let fall. I cannot blame your wish to leave us; it is certainly
natural: nor can I oppose it. Go, Walter, when you will!"
The young man turned round with a lighted eye and flushed cheek.
"And why, Walter?" said Lester, interrupting his thanks, "why this
surprise? why this long doubt of my affection? Could you believe I should
refuse a wish that, at your age, I should have expressed myself? You have
wronged me; you might have saved a world of pain to us both by
acquainting me with your desire when it was first formed; but, enough. I
see Madeline and Aram approach,--let us join them now, and to-morrow we
will arrange the time and method of your departure.
"Forgive me, Sir," said Walter, stopping abruptly as the glow faded from
his cheek, "I have not yet recovered myself; I am not fit for other
society than yours. Excuse my joining my cousin, and--"
"Walter!" said Lester, also stopping short and looking full on his
nephew, "a painful thought flashes upon me! Would to heaven I may be
wrong!--Have you ever felt for Madeline more tenderly than for her
sister?"
Walter literally trembled as he stood. The tears rushed into Lester's
eyes:--he grasped his nephew's hand warmly--
"God comfort thee, my poor boy!" said he, with great emotion; "I never
dreamt of this."
Walter felt now that he was understood. He gratefully returned the
pressure of his uncle's hand, and then, withdrawing his own, darted down
one of the intersecting walks, and was almost instantly out of sight.
