“I judged from his picture that the two brothers were very unlike,” said Lyle, “and from your description he will be in many respects a new specimen to come under my limited observation; I will have to make a study of him, and see if he is at all like my idea of a literary person. I would not suppose, though, there would be much to interest him here; the only rarities he will find are possibly new phases of ignorance and coarseness and crime.”
Miss Gladden thought, as she looked at Lyle, that if the new-comer did not find rare beauty of mind and soul, as well as of form and face, in that secluded region, he certainly must be very unappreciative; but she only said:
“You seem to have forgotten what Ned said of his brother, that his love of the beautiful was so intense, he doubted whether he would ever want to leave the scenery and surroundings here.”
“That was simply one of Mr. Rutherford’s extravagant expressions,” Lyle replied, “the natural surroundings here are certainly beautiful, but their beauty only makes the conditions mentally and morally the more painfully conspicuous, and if I can see the contrast so plainly, who have always lived here and known no other life, how must it look to one such as he!”
“Why do you always insist upon it so strongly that you have never known any other life than this?” inquired Miss Gladden.
“Why?” asked Lyle, in surprise, “I suppose simply because it is a fact, the one hateful truth that I despise, and so I say it over and over to myself, to check these foolish dream-fancies of mine, that seem as if I had known something better sometime.”
Lyle spoke with more bitterness than Miss Gladden had ever heard before, and the latter answered gently:
“If I were in your place, Lyle dear, I would not try to check these fancies; I would encourage them.”
Lyle gazed at her friend in astonishment. “Encourage them!” she repeated, “I don’t understand your meaning, why would you advise that?”
“To see to what they would lead, my dear.” Then, as Lyle looked bewildered, she continued: