his friends knew that his principles had veered by the change now
visible in his person and deportment. They saw he had ratted from
courage and joined love. Heretofore his life had been all winter,
darkened by storm and hurricane. The fiercer virtues had played
the devil with him; every word was thunder, every look lightning;
but now all that had passed away. Before he was the FORTITER IN RE;
at present he was the SUAVITER IN MODO. His existence was perfect
spring, beautifully vernal. All the amiable and softer qualities
began to bud about his heart; a genial warmth was diffused over
him; his soul got green within him; every day was serene, and if
a cloud happened to become visible, there was a roguish rainbow
astride of it, on which sat a beautiful Iris that laughed down at
him and seemed to say, "Why the dickens, Neal, don't you marry a
wife?"

Neal could not resist the afflatus which decended on him; an
ethereal light dwelled, he thought, upon the face of nature; the
colour of the cloth which he cut out from day to day was, to his
enraptured eye, like the colour of Cupid's wings--all purple; his
visions were worth their weight in gold; his dreams a credit to
the bed he slept on; and his feelings, like blind puppies, young
and alive to the milk of love and kindness which they drew from his
heart. Most of this delight escaped the observation of the world,
for Neal, like your true lover, became shy and mysterious. It is
difficult to say what he resembled; no dark lantern ever had more
light shut up within itself than Neal had in his soul, although
his friends were not aware of it. They knew, indeed, that he had
turned his back upon valor; but beyond this their knowledge did
not extend.