"With all the indignation of a proud, unreasonable man; more indignant,
poor fellow, for me than himself. And so did he wound and gall me by
what he said of Ellinor, and so did he rage against me because I would
not share his rage, that again we quarrelled. We parted, and did not
meet for many years. We came into sudden possession of our little
fortunes. His he devoted (as you may know) to the purchase of the old
ruins and the commission in the army, which had always been his dream;
and so went his way, wrathful. My share gave me an excuse for
indolence,--it satisfied all my wants; and when my old tutor died, and
his young child became my ward, and, somehow or other, from my ward my
wife, it allowed me to resign my fellowship and live amongst my books,
still as a book myself. One comfort, somewhat before my marriage, I had
conceived; and that, too, Roland has since said was comfort to him,--
Ellinor became an heiress. Her poor brother died, and all of the estate
that did not pass in the male line devolved on her. That fortune made a
gulf between us almost as wide as her marriage. For Ellinor poor and
portionless, in spite of her rank, I could have worked, striven, slaved;
but Ellinor Rich! it would have crushed me. This was a comfort. But
still, still the past,--that perpetual aching sense of something that
had seemed the essential of life withdrawn from life evermore, evermore!
What was left was not sorrow,--it was a void. Had I lived more with
men, and less with dreams and books, I should have made my nature large
enough to bear the loss of a single passion. But in solitude we shrink
up. No plant so much as man needs the sun and the air. I comprehend
now why most of our best and wisest men have lived in capitals; and
therefore again I say, that one scholar in a family is enough.
Confiding in your sound heart and strong honor, I turn you thus betimes
on the world. Have I done wrong? Prove that I have not, my child. Do
you know what a very good man has said? Listen and follow my precept,
not example.