Volume I Part 6 (2/2)
”Pardon me, Geoffrey. That is my secret.”
He spoke with the calmness of a philosopher, but I saw his emotion, as his eyes turned mechanically to the parchment he was copying, and affected an air of cheerful resignation.
The candid exposure of his past faults and follies raised, rather than sunk him in my estimation; but I was sadly disappointed at the general terms in which they were revealed. I wanted to know every event of his private life, and this abridgment was very tantalizing.
While I was pondering these things in my heart, the pen he had grasped so tightly was flung to some distance, and he raised his fine eyes to my face.
”Thank G.o.d! Geoffrey; I have not as yet lost the faculty of feeling--that I can see and deplore the errors of the past. When I think what I was, what I am, and what I might have been, it brings a cloud over my mind which often dissolves in tears. This is the weakness of human nature. But the years so uselessly wasted rise up in dread array against me, and the flood-gates of the soul are broken up by bitter and remorseful regrets. But see,” he exclaimed, das.h.i.+ng the thickening mist from his eyes, and resuming his peculiarly benevolent smile: ”the dark cloud has pa.s.sed, and George is himself again.”
”You are happier than I. You can smile through your tears,” I cried, regarding his April face with surprise.
”And so would you, Geoffrey, if, like me, you had brought your pa.s.sions under the subjection of reason.”
”It is no easy task, George, to storm a city, when your own subjects defend the walls, and at every attack drive you back with your own weapons, into the trenches. I will, however, commence the attack, by striving to forget that there is a world beyond these gloomy walls, in whose busy scenes I am forbidden to mingle.”
”Valiantly resolved, Geoffrey. But how comes it, that you did not tell me the news this morning?”
”News--what news?”
”Your cousin Theophilus returned last night.”
”The devil he did! That's everything but good news to me. But are you sure the news is true?”
”My landlady is sister to Mr. Moncton's housekeeper. I had my information from her. She tells me that the father and son are on very bad terms.”
”I have seldom heard Mr. Moncton mention him of late. I wonder we have not seen him in the office. He generally pays us an early visit to show off his fine clothes, and to insult me.”
”Talk of his satanic majesty, Geoff. You know the rest. Here comes the heir of the house of Moncton.”
”He does not belong to the elder branch,” I cried, fiercely. ”Poor as I am, I consider myself the head of the house, and one of these days will dispute his right to that t.i.tle.”
”Tus.h.!.+” said George, resuming his pen, ”you are talking sad nonsense.
But hereby hangs a tale.”
I looked up inquiringly. Harrison was hard at work. I saw a mischievous smile hovering about his lips. He turned his back abruptly to the door, and bent more closely over his parchment, as Theophilus Moncton entered the office equipped for a journey.
CHAPTER IX.
A PORTRAIT.
Two years had pa.s.sed away since I last beheld my cousin, and during his absence, there had been peace between his father and me. He appeared before me like the evil genius of the house, prepared to renew the old hostility, and I could not meet him with the least show of cordiality and affection.
I am not a good hand at sketching portraits, but the person of my cousin is so fresh in my memory, his image so closely interwoven with all the leading events of my life, that I can scarcely fail in giving a tolerably correct likeness of the original.
He was about the middle stature, his figure slender and exceedingly well made: and but for a strong dash of affectation, which marred all that he did and said, his carriage would have been easy and graceful.
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