Art thou so blind
To fling away the gem whose untold worth,
Hid 'neath the roughness of its native mine,
Tempts not the eye? Touched by the artist's wheel,
The hardest stone flashes the diamond's light.--_Anon_.
A few days later, Morton was seated with his friend Meredith.
"Ned, this is a slow life. Do you know, I have made up my mind to
change it."
"You have been so busy this year past, that I thought you would be
content to stay where you are."
"On the contrary, my vocation takes me abroad."
"Where will you go?"
"To Egypt, Arabia, India, the East Indies, the South Sea Islands."
"All in the cause of science?"
"At any rate, the thing is necessary to my plans."
"The old Adam sticks to you still. Are you sure that no Pequot blood
ever got into your veins?"
"I don't know as to that. My ancestors were Puritans to the backbone,
witch-burners, Quaker-killers, and Indian-haters. I only know that
when I am bored, my first instinct is to cut loose, and take to the
woods. It comes over me like an ague-fit. There are two places where a
man finds sea room enough; one is a great metropolis, the other is a
wilderness. There is no freedom in a place like this. One can only be
independent here by living out of the world as I have been doing."
"Here in America, we have political freedom _ad nauseam_; and we pay
for it with a loss of social freedom."
"You remember an agreement of ours, years ago, that you and I should
travel together. Now, will you stand to it, and go with me?"
"Other considerations apart, I should like nothing better; but, as
matters stand with me now, it's quite out of the question."
Morton was silent for a moment. "Ned," he said, at length, "I heard a
rumor yesterday. It is no part of mine to obtrude myself into your
private affairs, and I should not speak if I had not a reason, the
better half of which is, that I think I can serve you. I heard that
you were paying your addresses to Miss Euston."
"One cannot look twice at a lady without having it noted down in black
and white, and turned into tea-table talk."
"I met Miss Euston a few evenings ago. I used to know her before I
went to Europe, but had not seen her since. If what I heard is true, I
think you have shown something more than good taste."
"You remember her," said Meredith, after a pause, "as she was the
summer when you and I went to New Baden."
"Yes, I knew her then very well."
"I liked her better at that time than you ever supposed. She was very
young; just out of school, in fact. She had lived all her life in the
suburbs, and had grown up like an unpruned rose bush,--a fine stock in
a strong soil, but throwing out its shoots quite wildly and at
random."
"I know it; but all that is changed, I can't conceive how."
"I can tell you. The one person whom she loved and stood in awe of was
her father. He was a man, and a strong one. He died suddenly about the
time you went away. It was the first blow she had ever felt; and his
death was only the beginning of greater troubles. You remember her
brother Henry."
"I remember him when he was at school--a good-natured, high-spirited
little fellow, whom every body liked."
"With wild blood enough for a regiment, and as careless, thoughtless,
and easy-tempered as a child, such as he was, in fact. His father,
being out of the country on his affairs, sent him to New York, where
he fell in with a bad set, and grew very dissipated. Then, to get him
out of harm's way, they shipped him off to Canton, where he soon began
to ruin himself, hand over hand. At last, a few months after his
father's death, his mother and sister heard that he was on his way
home, with his health completely broken. The next news was, that he
was at Alexandria, dangerously ill of a slow fever. His mother, who,
with all respect, is the weakest of mortals, broke down at once into a
state of helplessness, and could do nothing but weep and lament. The
whole burden fell upon his sister. She went with her mother and a man
servant to Alexandria, and took charge of her brother, whose fever
left him in such an exhausted state that he fell into a decline. She
brought him as far as Naples, but he could go no farther; and here she
attended him for five months, till he died; her mother sinking,
meanwhile, into a kind of moping imbecility. By that time, her uncle
had found grace to come and join them. Then her turn came; her
strength failed her, and she fell violently ill. For a week, her life
was despaired of; but she rallied, against all hope. I was in Naples
soon after, and used to meet her every morning, as she drove in an
open carriage to Baiae. I never saw such a transformation. She was pale
as death, but very beautiful; and her whole expression was changed.
She had always been very fond of her brother. There were some points
of likeness between them. He had her wildness, and her kindliness of
disposition, but none of her vigorous good sense, and was altogether
inferior to her in intellect. Now you can have some idea why you find
her so different from what you once knew her to be."
"I knew," said Morton, "that she had passed through the fire in some
way; but how I could not tell. I think, now, still better of your
judgment, Ned."
"Then you see why I will not go with you. I must bring this matter to
an issue. For good or evil, I must know how it goes with me. It is not
a new thing. It is of longer date than you imagined, or she either.
What the end of it may be, Heaven only knows; but one thing is
certain,--you will not see me in the South Seas before this point is
cleared."
"Then I shall never see you there."
"Why do you say that?"
"Your travelling days are over. At least I think so."
"Do you mean----?"
"That you are playing at a game where I think you will win."
"What reason have you to think so?" demanded Meredith, nervously.
"Take the opinion, and let the reason go. On such an argument a good
reason will sometimes dwindle into nothing when one tries to explain
it."
His hand was on the door as he spoke, and bidding his friend good
morning, he left him to his meditations.