“I have scarcely ever seen a likeness so strong as that of Lord Ormond to your lordship,” answered Edmund.
“Such is the general opinion,” said Lord Fitz-Ullin; “but it is a stationary likeness, consisting in feature. What a fascination there is about that gleam of resemblance, found only in expression, which comes and goes with a smile, particularly when the likeness is to one who has been dear to us, and who no longer exists! We wait for it, we watch for it! and, when it comes, it brings momentary sunshine to the heart, and is gone again, with all the freshness of its charm entire, the eye not having had time to satisfy itself with a full examination into its nature or degree.”
Letters were at this moment brought in, and the admiral opened one, which he excused himself for reading, saying, it was from Lady Fitz-Ullin. The entrance of the rest of the company now diversified the scene, and dinner soon followed.
During the remainder of the day and evening, the intimacy between our hero and his young friend, Oscar Ormond, such was Lord Ormond’s name, made rapid progress; and both the lads looked forward, with equal pleasure, to the prospect of Edmund’s being appointed to the Erina.
There was an innocent openness about the manners of Oscar Ormond, proceeding from perfectly harmless intentions, which, to one so young as Edmund, and, himself of a disposition peculiarly frank, was very attractive. In Oscar, however, this winning quality, never having been cultivated into a virtue, had remained a mere instinct, and was even in danger of degenerating into a weakness—we mean that of idle egotism. While Edmund’s native candour, equally, in the first instance, springing from an honest consciousness of having no motive to conceal a thought, had, during that earliest period of education, so vitally important, been trained and sustained by the skilful hand of Mr. Jackson; and, therefore, already was accompanied by undeviating veracity on principle, and a consequent firmness of mind, worthy of riper years. This gave our hero an ascendancy over his young friend, which might be said to have commenced at their very first interview; and which, in their after lives, frequently influenced the conduct of both, though neither, perhaps, was conscious of its existence.
[CHAPTER XXV.]
“Pleasant to the ear is the praise of kings;
But, Carril, forget not the lowly.”
At this time there was no passing in any sea-port, but before three captains. Oscar and Edmund, therefore, proceeded to town. The anxious hour, big with the fate of many a middy, arrived. The friends, accordingly, having already got through their first examination with success, now wended their way to the great centre of naval hopes and fears, to answer such final queries as it might be judged necessary to put to them. Entering an ante-room, they approached a standing group of youngsters, who, probably, had not much interest to smooth their path, for their conversation chiefly turned on subjects of discontent. One, whose name was Bullen, and who had once been a messmate of Ormond’s, seemed to be chief spokesman. He was growling at the additional difficulty which, he asserted, there was now every day in passing. “A young man might know it all well enough aboard,” he said, “but to have a parcel of old-wigs staring a fellow in the face, and asking him puzzlers, why, it was enough to scatter the brains of any one of common modesty!”