“If it is not painful to you,” said Charles, “I should like to know what your fears and troubles are; and perhaps by bringing yourself to speak frankly of them, you may find that your imagination has magnified them.”
“It is selfish to talk so much about myself,” replied Monteath.
“I came on purpose to hear you,” said Charles, “and nothing can interest me so much.”
“Well, then,” said Monteath, “I have been thinking how far my usual pursuits will be hindered by this accident. I am afraid that my father will not allow me to take on myself, as I used to do, the most laborious part of our business concerns. I have, to be sure, spent a great part of my time in the counting-house; but there is a great deal of active business to be done besides, and journeys to be performed; and I am afraid that my father will take more upon him than at his age he can do without fatigue.”
“I do not see,” said Charles, “why you should not be almost as active as you have ever been; and as to journeys, unless this accident has made a coward of you, which I do not believe, you seem to me just as able to take them as ever. If not, it is no difficult matter to procure a traveller. Depend upon it, your father will spare himself for his children’s sake. So you see business may go on as well as ever. Now for pleasure. Do you keep a horse?”
“No, but I mean to do it now; that is no difficulty. There is one more, which I am almost ashamed to mention; but I will. I never could bear to be conspicuous, to be unlike other people, to attract notice; in short, to be stared at.”
“Do not be ashamed of feeling that,” said Charles: “in my opinion, this is the worst evil of all.”
“Is it, really?” said Monteath. “Worse than having one’s usefulness and independence impaired?”
“No,” replied Charles. “But I see no reason why your usefulness and independence should be impaired. If you had lost an arm, the case would have been different: but art affords such helps in your case, that it is only on occasions of extraordinary danger that you would not be able to exert yourself as well as ever.”
“I hope you are right,” replied Monteath. “You think, then, that I am not wrong to dread being made an object of curiosity for the first time in my life?”