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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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329 yourself the original at once.’ By this time he had sat down: he had laid the picture on the table before him, and with his brow supported on both hands, hung fondly over it. I discerned he was now neither angry nor shocked at my audacity. I saw even that to be thus frankly addressed on a subject he had deemed unapproachable-to hear it thus freely handled-was beginning to be felt by him as a new pleasure-an unhopedfor relief. Reserved people often really need the frank discussion of their sentiments and griefs more than the expansive. The sternest-seeming stoic is human after all; and to ‘burst’ with boldness and good-will into ‘the silent sea’ of their souls is often to confer on them the first of obligations. ‘She likes you, I am sure,’ said I, as I stood behind his chair, ‘and her father respects you. Moreover, she is a sweet girl-rather thoughtless; but you would have sufficient thought for both yourself and her. You ought to marry her.’ ‘Does she like me?’ he asked. ‘Certainly; better than she likes any one else. She talks of you continually: there is no subject she enjoys so much or touches upon so often.’ ‘It is very pleasant to hear this,’ he said-‘very: go on for another quarter of an hour.’ And he actually took out his watch and laid it upon the table to measure the time. ‘But where is the use of going on,’ I asked, ‘when you are probably preparing some iron blow of contradiction, or forging a fresh chain to fetter your heart?’ ‘Don’t imagine such hard things. Fancy me yielding and melting, as I am doing: human love rising like a freshly opened fountain in my mind and overflowing with sweet inundation all the field I have so carefully and with such labour prepared-so assiduously sown with the seeds of good intentions, of self-denying plans. And now it is deluged with a nectarous flood-the young germs swampeddelicious poison cankering them: now I see myself stretched on an ottoman in the drawing-room at Vale Hall at my bride Rosamond Oliver’s feet: she is talking to me with her sweet voice-gazing down on me with those eyes your skilful hand has copied so well-smiling at me with these coral lips. She is mine-I am hersthis present life and passing world suffice to me. Hush! say nothing-my heart is full of delight-my senses are entranced-let the time I marked pass in peace.’ I humoured him: the watch ticked on: he breathed fast and low: I stood silent. Amidst this hush the quarter sped; he replaced the watch, laid the picture down, rose, and stood on the hearth. ‘Now,’ said he, ‘that little space was given to delirium and delusion. I rested my temples on the breast of temptation, and put |
