‘They think,’ said Hugh, when he had tossed
the liquor down, ’that I am sleeping soundly
in the stable. Ha ha ha! The stable door
is shut, but the steed’s gone, master.’
‘You are a most convivial fellow,’ returned
his friend, ’and I love your humour of all things.
Good night! Take the greatest possible care of
yourself, for my sake!’
It was remarkable that during the whole interview,
each had endeavoured to catch stolen glances of the
other’s face, and had never looked full at it.
They interchanged one brief and hasty glance as Hugh
went out, averted their eyes directly, and so separated.
Hugh closed the double doors behind him, carefully
and without noise; and Mr Chester remained in his
easy-chair, with his gaze intently fixed upon the fire.
‘Well!’ he said, after meditating for
a long time—and said with a deep sigh and
an uneasy shifting of his attitude, as though he dismissed
some other subject from his thoughts, and returned
to that which had held possession of them all the
day—the plot thickens; I have thrown the
shell; it will explode, I think, in eight-and-forty
hours, and should scatter these good folks amazingly.
We shall see!’
He went to bed and fell asleep, but had not slept
long when he started up and thought that Hugh was
at the outer door, calling in a strange voice, very
different from his own, to be admitted. The delusion
was so strong upon him, and was so full of that vague
terror of the night in which such visions have their
being, that he rose, and taking his sheathed sword
in his hand, opened the door, and looked out upon the
staircase, and towards the spot where Hugh had lain
asleep; and even spoke to him by name. But all
was dark and quiet, and creeping back to bed again,
he fell, after an hour’s uneasy watching, into
a second sleep, and woke no more till morning.
The thoughts of worldly men are for ever regulated
by a moral law of gravitation, which, like the physical
one, holds them down to earth. The bright glory
of day, and the silent wonders of a starlit night,
appeal to their minds in vain. There are no signs
in the sun, or in the moon, or in the stars, for their
reading. They are like some wise men, who, learning
to know each planet by its Latin name, have quite forgotten
such small heavenly constellations as Charity, Forbearance,
Universal Love, and Mercy, although they shine by
night and day so brightly that the blind may see them;
and who, looking upward at the spangled sky, see nothing
there but the reflection of their own great wisdom
and book-learning.
It is curious to imagine these people of the world,
busy in thought, turning their eyes towards the countless
spheres that shine above us, and making them reflect
the only images their minds contain. The man who
lives but in the breath of princes, has nothing his
sight but stars for courtiers’ breasts.
The envious man beholds his neighbours’ honours
even in the sky; to the money-hoarder, and the mass
of worldly folk, the whole great universe above glitters
with sterling coin—fresh from the mint—stamped
with the sovereign’s head—coming always
between them and heaven, turn where they may.
So do the shadows of our own desires stand between
us and our better angels, and thus their brightness
is eclipsed.
