"Thank God! Geoffrey; I have not as yet lost the faculty of feeling—that I can see and deplore the errors of the past. When I think what I was, what I am, and what I might have been, it brings a cloud over my mind which often dissolves in tears. This is the weakness of human nature. But the years so uselessly wasted rise up in dread array against me, and the flood-gates of the soul are broken up by bitter and remorseful regrets. But see," he exclaimed, dashing the thickening mist from his eyes, and resuming his peculiarly benevolent smile: "the dark cloud has passed, and George is himself again."
"You are happier than I. You can smile through your tears," I cried, regarding his April face with surprise.
"And so would you, Geoffrey, if, like me, you had brought your passions under the subjection of reason."
"It is no easy task, George, to storm a city, when your own subjects defend the walls, and at every attack drive you back with your own weapons, into the trenches. I will, however, commence the attack, by striving to forget that there is a world beyond these gloomy walls, in whose busy scenes I am forbidden to mingle."
"Valiantly resolved, Geoffrey. But how comes it, that you did not tell me the news this morning?"
"News—what news?"
"Your cousin Theophilus returned last night."
"The devil he did! That's everything but good news to me. But are you sure the news is true?"
"My landlady is sister to Mr. Moncton's housekeeper. I had my information from her. She tells me that the father and son are on very bad terms."
"I have seldom heard Mr. Moncton mention him of late. I wonder we have not seen him in the office. He generally pays us an early visit to show off his fine clothes, and to insult me."