often bring together hearts which habit afterward keeps united. Few, very few, create an ideal in their youth and see it substantialize into a reality as life goes on. Still fewer of those men who are capable of real love ever bestow its treasures upon one who can appreciate them. I think I have never known a single instance of such an attachment being reciprocated and rewarded.”
“Did you ever know more than one man who possessed this faculty of loving, uncle?”
“In the course of my long life I have known three; and if you choose I will tell you the history of one of these, to prove my theory.
“Among my earliest school friends and playmates were Edgar and Herbert Darsie. They were twin-brothers, the only children of a widow, whom I remember as a tall, pale lady in close mourning, which she never laid aside till the day of her death. There was little of that resemblance between the twins which generally makes the pleasant puzzle of mothers and nurses in similar cases; for, though alike in feature and height, and even in their peculiarity of gait and manner, yet Edgar had the fair complexion, blue eyes, and light silken hair of his mother; while Herbert’s olive complexion, dark eyes, and curling black locks betrayed the French blood which he derived from his father. They were cheerful, happy-tempered boys, and possessed a certain natural sweetness of manner, which made them universal favorites with old and young. Their mother lived in the retired but handsome style which, in those days, was considered the proper mode of showing respect for the memory of a husband. She kept up the establishment exactly as it had been during Mr. Darsie’s life, and seemed to find her only pleasure in doing precisely as he would have wished. She was apparently in the enjoyment of a handsome income, kept her carriage, and had a number of servants, while the house and grounds exhibited taste as well as no stint of expense.
“The boys were about twelve years of age, when an accident happened to Herbert, which, though apparently slight at first, finally led to the most disastrous consequences. While skating, he fell and received some injury, which, after months of suffering, finally developed itself in an incurable disease of the spine, entailing upon him a life-time of pain, and branding him with frightful deformity. The tall, lithe, graceful boy, whose step had been as light and free as the leap of the greyhound, was now a dwarfed and distorted cripple. As soon as he was able to leave his sick-room, Mrs. Darsie placed Edgar at boarding-school, and sailed for Europe, with the intention of giving Herbert the benefit of all the modern discoveries in medicine. She designed to be absent a year, but, led on by fallacious hopes, she traveled farther, and remained much longer than she had anticipated. Three years elapsed before her return, and to all appearance Herbert had derived little benefit from the various experiments to which he had been subjected. He was still dependent on his crutch, and his gnarled and stunted figure presented a pitiable contrast to the tall and well-knit form of his brother. But his health was somewhat improved; his paroxysms of pain were less frequent, and he could now enjoy weeks of comparative ease and comfort.
“The brothers had early been remarkable for their affection for each other, and their unbroken concord, but their long separation had not been without its effect upon them. Edgar was gay, active, volatile, and not destitute of a leaven of selfishness; while Herbert had become grave, quiet, gentle in manner, and most thoughtful and considerate for others. To him suffering had been a teacher of all good things, and the misfortune of being cut off from fellowship with the world had taught him to find resources within himself. He could not and did not expect Edgar to sympathize in all his tastes, for he was conscious that their paths must henceforth be divided ones. He schooled himself to overcome the pang which this reflection gave to his sensitive spirit, and tried to find in his brother’s enjoyments of outer life, a pleasure which he could only receive from the reflection of another’s joy.
“Soon after their return from Europe, Mrs. Darsie received into her family the orphan child of a poor clergyman, partly from charity, partly with a view to furnish a companion and attendant for Herbert. Jessie Graham was a pale, delicate-looking child, about twelve years old, when she took up her abode with her benefactress. Her thin and almost transparent cheek, her bloodless lips, and large gray, timid-looking eyes, spoke of fragile health, and of a certain shyness of character which might be the result of early anxieties, or perhaps denoted feebleness of mind and indecision. But she was a sweet-tempered, gentle little girl, and her compassion for Herbert’s melancholy condition soon dissipated her shyness toward him, though to every one else, even to Mrs. Darsie, she was as timid as a startled fawn.
“To divert his lonely hours Herbert undertook her instruction. He was but a boy of fifteen, but sorrow had given him the stability of manhood; and never did a more discreet, tender, and watchful Mentor attempt the training of a female mind. Jessie was docile and intelligent, quickly acquiring every thing which called forth the perceptive faculties, but utterly incapable of abstract reasoning or profound reflection. Her mind possessed a certain activity, and a kind of feminine patience that enabled her to do full credit to her teacher, without ever attaining to his high reach of thought. To cultivate her mental powers, to impart to her a portion of his accomplishments, and to train her moral sense, now became Herbert’s chief occupation. That such employment of heart and mind saved him from bitterness and misanthropy there can be no doubt; but whether he did not pay dearly for his exemption we shall see in the sequel.
“Time passed on without making any great change in the affairs of the Darsies. Edgar went through college rather because it was necessary to a gentlemanly education than from any love for study, and, immediately after graduating, he set off on the tour of Europe. In the meantime Herbert continued to lead his usual quiet life, driving out in his low pony-carriage every day, teaching Jessie all she would learn, and surrounding himself with pictures of his own painting in the intervals of his severer studies.
“It was on the anniversary of their birth—the day they attained their twenty-first year—that the brothers again met upon their own hearth-stone. Mrs. Darsie’s health had begun to fail, and Edgar, at Herbert’s suggestion, had unwillingly torn himself from the enjoyments of Parisian life to return to his quiet home. He found his mother sadly changed, and evidently suffering from the insidious disease which so slowly saps the foundations of health and life. Herbert, like all deformed persons, had early lost the freshness of youth, and he was not surprised, therefore, to find him looking at least ten years older than himself, but he was astonished at the intellectual beauty which seemed to radiate from his noble countenance. To the shapeless form of a stunted tree he united the head of a demi-god. The beauty of his classical features, the splendor of his deep, dark eyes, and rich glossy hair curling in heavy masses round his temples, gave him the appearance of a magnificently sculptured head joined on to some distorted torso.