The issue was, that in solitude I often shuddered at my friend. In
my recollection of his dark and impressive countenance, the features
grew more sternly prominent than the reality, duskier in their depth
and shadow, and more lurid in their light; the frown, that had merely
flitted across his brow, seemed to have contorted it with an
adamantine wrinkle. On meeting him again, I was often filled with
remorse, when his deep eyes beamed kindly upon me, as with the glow
of a household fire that was burning in a cave. "He is a man after
all," thought I; "his Maker's own truest image, a philanthropic man!--
not that steel engine of the Devil's contrivance, a philanthropist!"
But in my wood-walks, and in my silent chamber, the dark face
frowned at me again.
When a young girl comes within the sphere of such a man, she is as
perilously situated as the maiden whom, in the old classical myths,
the people used to expose to a dragon. If I had any duty whatever,
in reference to Hollingsworth, it was to endeavor to save Priscilla
from that kind of personal worship which her sex is generally prone
to lavish upon saints and heroes. It often requires but one smile
out of the hero's eyes into the girl's or woman's heart, to transform
this devotion, from a sentiment of the highest approval and
confidence, into passionate love. Now, Hollingsworth smiled much
upon Priscilla,--more than upon any other person. If she thought him
beautiful, it was no wonder. I often thought him so, with the
expression of tender human care and gentlest sympathy which she alone
seemed to have power to call out upon his features.
Pages:
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97