passive resistance. But I must here learn to school my heart and
mind to an active and desperate conflict. I fear lest I should do
more harm than good; and I am sure I shall if I suffer impatience
and irascibility to prevail. I shall, perhaps, also hear from those
lips which once addressed me only in the accents of respect and
kindness, language indicative of that alienation which is the
inevitable result of marked dissimilarity of sentiment and
character, and which, according to Aristotle's most just
description, will often dissolve the truest friendship, at all
events, extinguish (just as prolonged absence will) all its
vividness. So impossible is it for the full sympathies of the heart
to coexist with absolute antipathy of the intellect! Nay, I shall,
perhaps, have to listen to the language which I cannot but consider
as "impiety" and "blasphemy," and yet keep my temper.
I half feel, however, that I am doing him injustice in much of this;
and I will not "judge before the time." It cannot be that he will
ever cease to regard me with affection, though, perhaps, no longer
with reverence; and I am confident that not even scepticism can
chill the natural kindness of his disposition. I am persuaded
that, even as a sceptic, he is very different from most sceptics.
They cherish doubts; he will be impatient of them. Scepticism is,
with them, a welcome guest, and has entered their hearts by an open
door; I am sure that it must have stormed his, and entered it by a
breach.

"No," my heart whispers, "I shall still find you sincere, Harrington;
scorning to take any unfair advantage in argument, and impatient of
all sophistry, as I have ever found you. You will be fully aware of
the moral significance of the conclusion at which you have arrived,
--even that there is no conclusion to be arrived at; and you will be