“‘Ira brevis est,’” quoth the Rector wisely; “I think love is the same.”
“My madness of love will last all my life—yes, forever!”
“Forever is a long time.”
“Rector,” said Maurice entreatingly, “what do you advise?”
“I advise nothing, dear lad,” replied Carriston quietly; “what is the use of my giving advice which is opposed to your own desires, and therefore will be rejected?”
“True! true!” muttered Maurice, frowning. “I must go to Melnos and convince myself of the truth of the matter. See here, sir, at present I am worshipping a creature of my own creation, with the face of that picture, but with the attributes of fancy. This chimera of the brain, as you will doubtless term her, haunts me night and day, so the only way to lay this feminine ghost is to see her incarnate in the flesh. She may be quite different from what I conceive, in which case I will be cured of my fancy; on the other hand, she may realize entirely my conception of beauty, purity, and womanliness: if she does, I will make her my wife, that is, of course, if she will have me for her husband.”
“As you put the matter in that light,” said Mr. Carriston, after a pause, “I advise you to go to Melnos.”
“You do?”
“Decidedly! It is best to end this torture of the imagination, which I also know only too well. See this woman, if you like, but be sure she is all you desire her to be before making her your wife.”
“There is no fear that I will let my heart govern my brain in such an important matter.”