"You tremble and become flushed whenever Miss Oliver enters the

schoolroom."

Again the surprised expression crossed his face. He had not

imagined that a woman would dare to speak so to a man. For me, I

felt at home in this sort of discourse. I could never rest in

communication with strong, discreet, and refined minds, whether male

or female, till I had passed the outworks of conventional reserve,

and crossed the threshold of confidence, and won a place by their

heart's very hearthstone.

"You are original," said he, "and not timid. There is something

brave in your spirit, as well as penetrating in your eye; but allow

me to assure you that you partially misinterpret my emotions. You

think them more profound and potent than they are. You give me a

larger allowance of sympathy than I have a just claim to. When I

colour, and when I shade before Miss Oliver, I do not pity myself.

I scorn the weakness. I know it is ignoble: a mere fever of the

flesh: not, I declare, the convulsion of the soul. THAT is just as

fixed as a rock, firm set in the depths of a restless sea. Know me

to be what I am--a cold hard man."

I smiled incredulously.

"You have taken my confidence by storm," he continued, "and now it

is much at your service. I am simply, in my original state--

stripped of that blood-bleached robe with which Christianity covers

human deformity--a cold, hard, ambitious man. Natural affection

only, of all the sentiments, has permanent power over me. Reason,

and not feeling, is my guide; my ambition is unlimited: my desire

to rise higher, to do more than others, insatiable. I honour

endurance, perseverance, industry, talent; because these are the

means by which men achieve great ends and mount to lofty eminence.

I watch your career with interest, because I consider you a specimen

of a diligent, orderly, energetic woman: not because I deeply

compassionate what you have gone through, or what you still suffer."

"You would describe yourself as a mere pagan philosopher," I said.

"No. There is this difference between me and deistic philosophers:

I believe; and I believe the Gospel. You missed your epithet. I am

not a pagan, but a Christian philosopher--a follower of the sect of

Jesus. As His disciple I adopt His pure, His merciful, His

benignant doctrines. I advocate them: I am sworn to spread them.

Won in youth to religion, she has cultivated my original qualities

thus:- From the minute germ, natural affection, she has developed

the overshadowing tree, philanthropy. From the wild stringy root of

human uprightness, she has reared a due sense of the Divine justice.

Of the ambition to win power and renown for my wretched self, she

has formed the ambition to spread my Master's kingdom; to achieve

victories for the standard of the cross. So much has religion done

for me; turning the original materials to the best account; pruning

and training nature. But she could not eradicate nature: nor will

it be eradicated 'till this mortal shall put on immortality.'"




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