Of such enjoyments Noble was most fearlessly fond. To him the world of nature was a vast and richly illuminated volume; on the various pictures of which he could pore for ever, with all the wonder, and with all the rapture, of childhood:—“his Father made them all”—that was his feeling. The arrows of trouble and disappointment fell blunted from a bosom, the shield of which was a God seen, acknowledged, and felt, in all things visible, as the very essence of love.
CHAP. XI.
He makes the infirmity of his temper pass for revelations.
Butler.
The summer months at Milverton rolled swiftly on, Cuthbert slowly, but perfectly, regained his strength; and, early in August, he was once more able to walk abroad and to take exercise on horseback; but his vivacity and animation did not return with his health: he was no longer the cheerful and entertaining companion at table, or in the intervals of leisure. Sir Oliver found him a dull restraint, and wearied of his presence: even his pupil, who was truly attached to him, and was still, in the hours of study, delighted with his preceptor, felt the sad and depressing change; and if it had not been for the frequent visits of George Juxon, would have been disappointed of many of those joyous and manly exercises which Juxon delighted to encourage, and in which he excelled. The only diversions by which Cuthbert could now be attracted were fencing, and the use of the broad sword: but he practised them without a smile; and there was an earnestness of attention and a seriousness of effort about him, whenever he took a lesson from Juxon, which drove away smiles and jokes. His stamp was angry; the glance of his eye rapid and piercing; and after six weeks of occasional practice, when Juxon told him he would soon be a strong and complete swordsman, the grave scholar, so quiet and gentle in all his ways and words on common occasions, hastily and vehemently exclaimed, “Thank God.”
“For what?” asked his good-tempered instructor, “for what do you thank God so warmly?”
“It matters not, it matters not,” replied Cuthbert, hastily; “time will show.”
Juxon put down his sword, and, looking him earnestly in the face, asked him if he was well?