Vassall Morton Part 51

CHAPTER LXIV.

Ah, would my friends.h.i.+p with thee Might drown the memory of all patterns past!--_Suckling_.

Some few days after, riding, as usual, in the afternoon, Morton saw on the road before him a lady on horseback, riding in the same direction.

At a glance, he recognized the air and figure of f.a.n.n.y Euston. This remnant, at least, of her former spirit remained to her,--she did not hesitate to ride unattended. Morton checked his horse, reflected for a little, then touched him with the spur, and in a moment was at her side. After they had conversed for a while, she said,--

"I have heard a great deal of your imprisonment from others, but nothing from yourself. Will you not let me hear your story from your own lips?"

"It was a long and dull history to live through, and will be a short and dull one to tell."

"I have never been able to hear clearly why you were arrested at all."

"It was a simple matter. The Austrian government is like a tyrant and a coward, frightened at shadows. I had one or two acquaintances at Vienna who had been implicated, though I did not know it, in plots against the government. I, being an American, was imagined to be, as a matter of course, a democrat, and in league with them. It needed very little more; and they shut me up, as they have done many an innocent man before me."

"Looking back at your imprisonment, it must seem to you a broad, dark chasm in your life."

"Broad and black enough; but not quite so void as I once thought."

"No; in struggling through it, I can see that you have not come out empty handed."

"Not I; I should be glad to rid myself of the larger part of the load.

One is sometimes punished with the fulfilment of his own whims. I remember wis.h.i.+ng--and that not so many years back--that I might sound all the strings of human joys and sufferings,--try life in all its phases,--in peace and war, a dungeon, if I remember right, inclusive.

I have had my fill of it, and do not care to repeat the experiment."

"Some of the damp and darkness of your dungeon still clings about you, and out of the midst of it, you look back over the gulf to a sh.o.r.e of light and suns.h.i.+ne, where you were once standing."

"You read me like a sibyl, as you always do. None but a child or a fool will seriously regret any shape of experience out of which he has come with mind and senses still sound, though it may have changed the prismatic colors of life into a neutral tint, a universal gray, a Scotch mist, with light enough to delve by, and nothing more."

"One's life is a series of compromises, at best. One must capitulate with Fate, gain from her as much good as may be, and as little evil."

"And then set his teeth and endure. As for myself, though, if gifts were portioned out among mankind in equal allotments, I should count myself, even now, as having more than my share."

"That idea of equalized happiness is a great fallacy."

"Every idea of mortal equality is a great fallacy; and all the systems built on it are built on a quicksand. There is no equality in nature.

There are mountains and valleys, deserts and meadows, the fertile and the barren. There is no equality in human minds or human character.

Who shall measure the distance from the n.o.blest to the meanest of men, or the yet vaster distance from the n.o.blest to the meanest of women?

The differences among mankind are broader than any but the greatest of men can grasp. With pains enough, one may comprehend, in a measure, the minds on a level with his own or below it; but, above, he sees nothing clearly. To follow the movements of a great man's mind, he must raise himself almost to an equal greatness."

"A hopeless attempt with most. Every one has a limit."

"But men make more limits for themselves than Nature makes for them."

"You seem to me a person with a singular capacity of growth. You push forth fibres into every soil, and draw nutriment from sources most foreign to you."

"An indifferent stock needs all the aliment it can find. I am fortunate in my planting. Companions.h.i.+p is that which shapes us; and I have found men, and what is more to the purpose, women, who have met my best requirement. One's friends have all their special influence with which they affect him. Yours, to me, was always a rousing and wakening influence, an electric life. You have shot a ray of sun down into my shadow, and I am bound at least to thank you for it."

"I hope, for old friends.h.i.+p's sake, that your shadow may soon cease to need such farthing-candle illumination.--Here is my mother's house.

She will be glad to see you."

"I thank you: I will come soon, but not to-day."

And, taking leave of his companion, he turned his horse homeward.

"A vain attempt! I thought a light might kindle again; but it is all dust and ashes, with only a sparkle or two. No more flame; the fuel is burnt out. Shall I go on? Shall I offer what is left of my heart? A poor tribute for her. She should command a better; and there is something in her manner, warm and cordial as she is, that tells me that I should offer it in vain."

CHAPTER LXV.

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."