Bressant

He would scarcely have believed, in his younger years, that he would

have remained anywhere so long, without even a thought of changing the

scene. But then, his society days were over long ago, and he had seen

all he ever intended to see of the world. Here he had his house, and his

daily newspaper, and his books, and his garden, and the love and respect

of his daughters and fellow-townspeople. Was not that enough--was it not

all he could desire? But here, insensibly, the professor's eyes rested

upon the vacant spot at the summit of the hill opposite.

Very few people, be they never so old, or their circumstances never so

good, would find it impossible to mention something which they believe

they would be the happier for possessing. Perhaps Professor Valeyon was

not one of the exceptions, and was haunted by the idea that, were some

certain event to come to pass, life would be more pleasant and gracious

to him than it was now. Doubtless, however, an ideal aspiration of some

kind, even though it be never realized, is itself a kind of happiness,

without which we might feel at a loss. If the professor's solitary wish

had been fulfilled, and there had been no longer cause for him to say,

"If I had but this, I should be satisfied," might it not still happen

that in some unguarded, preoccupied moment he should start and blush to

find his lips senselessly forming themselves into the utterance of the

old formula? Would it not be a sad humiliation to acknowledge that the

treasure he had all his life craved, did not so truly fill and occupy

his heart as the mere act of yearning after it had done?

In indulging in these speculations, however, we are pretending to a

deeper knowledge of Professor Valeyon's private affairs than is at

present authorizable. After a while he withdrew his eyes from the

hill-tops, sighed, as those do whose thoughts have been profoundly

absorbed, and knocked the ashes out of his pipe. He began to debate

within himself--for the mind, unless strictly watched, is apt to waver

between light thoughts and grave--whether or no it was worth while to

make a second journey into the study after more tobacco. Perhaps

Cornelia was within call, and would thus afford a means of cutting the

Gordian knot at once. No! he remembered now that she had walked over to

the village for the afternoon mail, and would not be back for some time

yet. And Sophie--poor child! she would not leave her room for two weeks

to come, at least.

"I wonder whether they ever want to see any thing of the outside world?"

said the old gentleman to himself, elevating his chin, and scratching

his short, white beard. "Reasonable to suppose they could appreciate

something better than the society hereabouts! A picnic once in a

while--sleigh-ride in winter--sewing-bees--dance at--at Abbie's; and all

in the company of a set of country bumpkins, like Bill Reynolds, and

awkward farmers' daughters!