LOVE AND HATRED.
At first Mr. Moncton refused to see his son; but on the receipt of a letter from Theophilus, his positive orders on that head were not only reversed, but the worthy young gentleman was received with marked attention by his father.
The contents of that letter I did not know then, but got a knowledge of them in after years. The son had become acquainted with some villainous transactions of the parent, which he threatened to expose to the world, if any rigorous measures were adopted towards himself. These revelations were of such a startling nature, that no alternative remained to Mr. Moncton but to submit, which he did, and with a wonderful good grace.
It would be no easy matter to describe the surprise and indignation of Theophilus Moncton, when he discovered that the despised and insulted Geoffrey had become a person of some consequence during his absence. I shall never forget the studied air of indifference, the chilling coldness, with which he met me on his return, and under the cover of which he endeavoured to conceal his chagrin.
The long-cherished dislike that I had entertained for him, had lost much of its bitter character during a separation of many months. I was willing to believe that I might sometimes have been the aggressor, and that time, and a more intimate knowledge of the world, might have produced a favourable change in his surly and morose disposition. I had still to learn that the world rarely improves the heart, but only teaches both sexes more adroitly to conceal its imperfections. I could perceive no alteration in Theophilus which gave the least promise of mental improvement. After a few minutes spent in his company, I found him more arrogant and conceited than when he left England. The affectation of imitating foreign manners, and interlarding his conversation with French and Italian, rendered him less attractive in his assumed, than he had been in his natural, character.
I listened for the first week to his long, egotistical harangues, with tolerable patience, hoping that the theme of self would soon be exhausted, and the Frenchified dandy condescend to remember that he was an Englishman; but finding him becoming more arrogant and assuming by listening to his nonsense, I turned from him with feelings of aversion, which I could but ill conceal. It must have been apparent even, to himself, that I considered his company a bore.
The sympathy which exists between kindred minds, all have experienced at some period of their lives; but the mysterious chords of feeling which unite hearts formed by nature, to understand and appreciate each other, are not more electrical in their operation than those which have their origin in the darker passions of the human breast.
How repugnant to a sensitive mind is a forced association with persons in whom we can find no affinity; and whose sentiments and pursuits are at utter variance with our own. I was acutely alive to these impressions, whenever I encountered the sidelong, watchful glance of my cousin. There was nothing straightforward in him; he never looked friend or enemy honestly in the face. We mutually understood each other. Though he scrupulously avoided addressing his conversation to me, yet it was chiefly intended for my edification; and was replete with satirical observations.
I detest this covert manner of attack; it is mean and unfair in the highest degree, as it deprives the person attacked from taking his own part, and boldly defending himself. Theophilus was a perfect adept at this dastardly species of warfare.