The next morning Willoughby confided to his brother the determination he
had come to on the last evening, of proposing for Lady Anne Armadale,
the daughter of Lord Selby.
He described with great exultation how much attached the lady had been
to a gentleman of whom her friends disapproved, and whom she was
notwithstanding determined to marry up to the time he had become his
rival; but that he had not been long in driving the former lover from
the field, and securing the preference of the lady.
Alfred, in his anxiety for his brother's happiness, forgot for the
moment his usual dread of offering advice.
"For heaven sake," he said, "Willoughby, pause! Be _quite_ certain that
you have secured her real preference!"
"I _am_ quite certain," said Willoughby, taking up his hat impatiently.
"Nay, do not be hasty either with the lady or with me."
"You think it is impossible for any woman to prefer me, I suppose. I
have, I confess, no pretensions to be an Adonis," he added with a sneer,
for he knew that Alfred was considered remarkably handsome; "at the same
time all people's taste are fortunately not alike!"
"Nay, my dear Willoughby, do not be childish! Is it not wiser to use a
little caution? Have you no fear of finding yourself, when too late, the
husband of a woman capable of sacrificing her feelings to her interest?"
Willoughby abruptly quitted the room. He went directly to Lord Selby's,
and in less than an hour had proposed for, and been accepted by Lady
Anne Armadale.
Unhappily for Willoughby, the slender share of sense he possessed was
not only at all times hoodwinked by vanity, but in general superseded in
its operations by temper. For if any friend happened to offer him the
slightest advice, so jealous was he of having it supposed his judgment
required assistance, that, without waiting to consider if any offence
was intended, he would feel perhaps but a momentary resentment, yet,
while under its dominion, as the readiest and most appropriate revenge,
would resolve hastily on an opposite line of conduct to that suggested
by his adviser; and having once so resolved, obstinacy would put its
seal on a determination which in fact had never been examined by his
understanding, while had there been no interference, he would at least
have considered the subject, and might, possibly, have come to a just
conclusion.
A man of a decidedly superior mind, on the contrary, having no private
misgivings respecting his own capacity, is always well pleased to take
under consideration any new views of a subject, which the suggestions of
a friend, or indeed of any one, may present. It is of course his own
judgment which finally decides, but like a just judge, after first
hearing every witness, that is to say every argument which can be
brought to bear upon the subject. Acuteness in prejudging is the boast
of the fool. Discrimination to give its due weight to every part of the
evidence, the privilege of the man of sense. The fool is always telling
you he can see with half an eye. We would request such persons to employ
in future the whole of both orbs, and possibly with a vision so
extraordinary, they might be enabled to pierce even to the bottom of
that far-famed well, in which it is said that truth has hitherto lain
hid from the researches of mankind.
Certainly no claim to merit or distinction can be more absurd than that
which is founded on the wilfully limited means employed for producing
the desired end.
Excellence, to challenge admiration, should be excellence in the
abstract; while he who would be even a respectable candidate for the
prize, should use every power that Providence has given to man, avail
himself of every ray of light that the experience of past ages has
elicited, and bringing all to a focus, pour the concentrated beam on the
path to be explored.
Thus only can each generation hope to gain some step on the road towards
perfection unattained by its predecessor.