“Very sad, indeed,” said I, examining the carte for supper.
“Oh yes, sir; and being in deep mourning, too, and a stranger away for the first time from her country.”
I started, and felt my heart bounding against my side.
“What was it you said about deep mourning, and being young and beautiful?” asked I, eagerly.
“Only the mourning, sir,—it was only the mourning I mentioned; for she kept her veil close down, and would not suffer her face to be seen.”
“Bashful as beautiful! modest as she is fair!” muttered I. “Do you happen to know whither she is going?”
“Yes, sir; her luggage is marked 'Brussels.'”
“It is she! It is herself!” cried I, in rapture, as I turned away, lest the fellow should notice my emotion. “When does she leave this?”
“She seems doubtful, sir; she told the landlady that she is going to reside at Brussels; but never having been abroad before, she is naturally timid about travelling even so far alone.”
“Gentle creature! why should she be exposed to such hazards? Bring me some of this fricandeau with chiccory, waiter, and a pint of Beaune; fried potatoes too.—Would that I could tell her to fear nothing!” thought I. “Would that I could just whisper, 'Potts is here; Potts watches over you; Potts will be that friend, that brother, that should have come to meet you! Sleep soundly, and with a head at ease. You are neither friendless nor forsaken!'” I feel I must be naturally a creature of benevolent instincts; for I am never so truly happy as when engaged in a work of kindness. Let me but suggest to myself a labor of charity, some occasion to sorrow with the afflicted, to rally the weak-hearted, and to succor the wretched, and I am infinitely more delighted than by all the blandishment of what is called “society.” Men have their allotted parts in life, just as certain fruits are meet for certain climates. Mine was the grand comforting line. Nature meant me for a consoler. I have none of those impulsive temperaments which make what are called jolly fellows. I have no taste for those excesses which go by the name of conviviality. I can, it is true, be witty, anecdotic, and agreeable; I can spice conversation with epigram, and illustrate argument by apt example; but my forte is tenderness.