"Insane!" he said. "What is it to be insane? It is to have faculties exalted beyond the comprehension of the multitude; to soar above the grovelling world. Their eyes are too weak to bear the glory, and, because they are blind, they think others cannot see. The fools declared my father was insane. They say the same of you, Holden, and, the next thing, I shall be insane, I suppose. Ha, ha!"
Holden himself was startled. He muttered something indistinctly before he answered—
"May the world never say that of thee, dear James!"
"Why not?" inquired Armstrong, eagerly. "Alas! you consider me unworthy to be admitted to the noble band of misunderstood and persecuted men? True, true! I know it to be true. My earthly instincts fetter me to earth. Of the earth, I am earthy. But what shall prevent my standing afar off, to admire them? What a foolish world is this! Were not the prophets and apostles denounced as insane men? I have it, I have it," he added, after a pause, "inspiration is insanity."
Holden looked inquiringly at Faith, whose countenance evinced great distress; then, turning to Armstrong, he said—
"Thou art not well, James. Perhaps, like me, thou hast passed a disturbed night?"
"I have, of late been unable to sleep as well as formerly," said Armstrong. "There is a pain here," he added, touching his forehead, "which keeps me awake."
"Thou needest exercise. Thou dost confine thyself too much. Go more into the open air, to drink in the health that flows down from the pure sky."
"It is what I urge frequently on my dear father," said Faith.
"Faith is an angel," said Holden. "Listen to her advice. Thou canst have no better guide."