Their farther journey to Gravesend passed without any interruption, and indeed without any occurrence worthy of notice. Lady Katrine and Sir Osborne, Geraldine and Longpole, mutually congratulated each other on the favourable termination of an adventure which had commenced under such threatening auspices; and every one of the party poured forth upon his neighbour the usual quantity of wonder and amazement which always follows any event of the kind. The poor priest, who had so nearly fallen a victim to the excited passions of the crowd, was the last that sufficiently recovered from the strong impressions of the moment to babble thereupon.
When, however, his loquacious faculties were once brought into play, he contrived to compensate for his temporary taciturnity, shouting forth his thanks to Sir Osborne Maurice from the rear to the front, declaring that the preservation of his life was entirely owing to his valour and conduct; that it was wonderful the influence which his sole word possessed with the multitude, and that he should never cease to be grateful till the end of his worldly existence.
Sir Osborne assured him that he was very welcome; and remarked, with a smile, to Lady Katrine, who was laughing at the priest's superfluity of gratitude, that in all probability it was this sort of exuberance of zeal that had brought him into the perilous circumstances in which they had at first found him.
"But can zeal ever be exuberant?" demanded Lady Katrine, suddenly changing her tone; and then fixing the full light of her beautiful dark eyes upon the knight, she added, "I mean in a friend."
"It can," said Sir Osborne, "when not guided by prudence. But I do not think a fool can be a friend."
"Come, sir knight, come!" said the lady; "let us hear your idea of a friend."
"A friend," replied the knight, smiling at her earnestness, "must be both a wise man and a good man. He must love his friend with sufficient zeal to see his faults and endeavour to counteract them, and with sufficient prudence to perceive his true interests and to strive for them. But he must put aside vanity; for there is many a man who pretends a great friendship for another merely for the vain purpose of advising and guiding him, when, in truth, he is not capable of advising and guiding himself. The man who aspires to such a name must be to his friend what every man would be to himself, if he could see his own faults undazzled by self-love and his own interests unblinded by passion. He must be zealous and kind, steady and persevering, without being curious or interfering, troublesome or obstinate."
"Would I had such a friend!" said Lady Katrine, with a sigh, and for the rest of the way she was grave and pensive.
CHAPTER XIII.
Let us
Act freely, carelessly, and capriciously, as if our veins
Ran with quicksilver.--Ben Jonson.