University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.

WHEN fifty-two years old, Daniel Grey amassed a
handsome fortune by speculating in certain gold and
coal mine stocks, which not only relieved him from the
necessity of daily toil in his dusty counting-room, but elevated
him to that more than Braminical caste, dubbed in Mammonparlance
— capitalists; whose decrees outweigh legislative
statutes, and by feeling the pulse of stock-boards and all
financial corporations, regulate the fiscal currents of the State.
A few months subsequent to this sudden accession of wealth,
his meek and devoted wife — who had patiently shared all the
trials and hardships of his early impecunious career, and
brightened an humble home which boasted no treasure comparable

to her loving, unselfish heart, — was summoned to the
enjoyment of a heritage beyond the stars; and Daniel Grey,
capitalist, found himself a florid handsome widower, with two
children, Enoch and Jane, to remind him continually of the
pale wife over whose quiet ashes rose a costly mausoleum,
where rare exotics nodded to each other across gilded slab and
sculptured angels. That he profoundly mourned his loss no
charitable mind could doubt, notwithstanding the obstinate fact
that ere the violets had bloomed a twelvemonth over the dead
mother of his children he had provided them with one who
certainly bore her name, usurped her precious privileges,
walked in her footsteps, but wofully failed to fill her place.

Mrs. Daniel Grey, scarcely the senior of the step-daughter
whose lips most reluctantly framed the sacred word “mother,”
was a fresh fair young thing, whose ideas of marriage
extended no further than diamonds, white satin, reception
cards, and bridal presents; and whose regard for her worthy
husband sought no surer basis than his bank-stock and insurance
dividends. Dainty and bright, in tasteful and costly apparel,
the pretty child-wife flitted up and down in his house and
over the serene surface of his life, touching no feeling of his nature
so deeply as that colossal parvenu vanity which exulted in the
possession of a graceful walking announcement of his ability to
clothe in fine fabrics and expensive jewels.

Perhaps the mildew that stained the ghastly gaunt angels who
kept guard over the dust of the dead wife, extended yet further
than the silent territory over which sexton and mattock
reigned, for one dreary December night, instead of nestling for a
post-prandial nap among the velvet cushions of his luxurious
parlor, Daniel Grey, capitalist, slept his last sleep in a high-backed,
comfortless chair before his desk, where the confidential
clerk found him next morning, with his rigid icy fingers thrust
between the leaves of his check-book.

According to the old Arab proverb, —

And, past all peradventure, having borne away one member of
the household, the “Last Carrier” from force of habit hastens
to perform the same thankless service for the remainder; — thus
ere summer sunshine streamed on the husband's grave, another
yawned at its side, and a wreathed and fluted shaft shot up close
to his mausoleum, to tell sympathizing friends and careless
strangers that the second wife of Daniel Grey had been snatched
away in the morning of life.

Her infant son Ulpian was committed to the tender guardianship
of his maternal grandmother, in whose hands he
remained until the close of his fourth year, when her death
necessitated his return to the home of his only relatives, Enoch
and Jane. At the request of his sister, the former had sold the
elegant new residence in a fashionable quarter of the town, and
removed to the old homestead and farm, hallowed by reminiscences
of their mother, and invested with the magic attractions
that early association weaves about the spots frequented in
youth.

Manifesting, even in boyhood, an unconquerable repugnance
not only to curriculum, but the monotonous routine of mercantile
pursuits, Enoch sullenly forswore stock-jobbing and
finance, and declared his intention of indulging his rural tastes
and becoming a farmer. Fine cattle and poultry of all kinds,
heavy wheat-crops, and well-stored corn-cribs engrossed his
thoughts, to the entire exclusion of abstract æsthetic speculation,
of operatic music, and Pre-Raphaelitism; while the sight
of one of his silky short-horned Ayrshires yielded him infinitely
more pleasure than the possession of all Rosa Bonheur's ideals
could possibly have done, and the soft billowy stretch of his
favorite clover-meadow was worth all the canvas that Claude or
Poussin had ever colored. While Enoch had cordially hated
his fair blue-eyed young step-mother, not from any personal or
individual grounds of grievance, but simply and solely because
she dared to occupy the household niche, sanctified once and
forever by his own meek gentle-toned mother, he nevertheless
tenderly loved her baby-boy; and as Ulpian grew to manhood

he became the idol, at whose shrine the brother and sister
offered their pure and most intense affection.

Neither had married, and when the youngest of the household
band completed his studies, and decided to accept a naval
appointment, the consternation and grief which the announcement
produced at the homestead, proved how essential the
presence of the half-brother had become to the happiness of the
sedate stolid Enoch, and equable unselfish Jane. But the
desire to travel subordinated all other sentiments in Ulpian's
nature, and he eagerly embarked for a cruise, from which he
was recalled by tidings of the death of his brother.

A brief sojourn at the homestead had sufficed to arrange the
affairs of the carefully-managed estate, and the young surgeon
returned to his post aboard ship, in distant oriental seas. The
increasing infirmity of his sister had finally induced the resignation
of his cherished commission, and brought the man of
thirty-five back to his home, where the “old familiar faces”
seemed to have vanished forever; and, in lieu thereof, legions of
cold-eyed strangers carelessly confronted him.

Emancipated from all restraint, and early consigned to the
guidance of his boyish caprices and immature judgment, Ulpian
Grey's character had unfolded itself under circumstances
peculiarly favorable for the fostering of selfishness and the
development of idiosyncrasies. As a plant, unmolested by man
and beast, germinates, expands, and freely and completely
manifests all its inherent tendencies, whether detrimental or
beneficial to humanity, so Dr. Grey's matured manhood was
no distorted or discolored result of repeated educational
experiments, but a thoroughly normal efflorescence of an unbiassed
healthful nature.

Habits of unwavering application and searching study, contracted
in collegiate cloisters, tightened their grasp upon him,
as he wandered away from the quiet precincts of Alma Mater,
and into the crowded noisy campus of life; and even the
gregarious and convivial manners prevalent aboard ship failed
to divert his attention from the prosecution of scientific researches,
or to retard his rapid progress in classical scholarship.

For the treasures of knowledge thus patiently and indefatigably
garnered through a series of years, travel proved an invaluable
polyglot commentator, analyzing, comparing, annotating, and
italicizing, and had converted his mind into a vast, systematically
arranged, pictorial encyclopædia of miscellaneous lore, embellished
with delicate etchings, noble engravings, and gorgeous
illuminations, — a thesaurus where savants might seek successfully
for data, and whence artists could derive grand types, and
pure tender coloring.

Reverent and loving appreciation of the intrinsically “true,
good, and beautiful” was part of the homage that his nature
rendered to its Creator, and instead of flowering into a morbid
and maudlin sentimentality which craves low-browed, long
straight-nosed, undraped statuettes in every nook and corner, —
or dwarfs the soul and pins it to the surplice of some theologic
dogmata claiming infallibility — or coffins the intellect in
cramped, shallow, psychological categories, — it bore fruit in a
wide-eyed, large-hearted, liberal-minded eclecticism, which,
waging no crusade against the various Saladins of modern systems,
quietly possessed itself of the really valuable elements that
constitute the basis of every ethical, æsthetic, and scientific
creed, which has for any length of time levied black-mail on the
credulity of mankind.

Breadth of intellectual vision promotes moral and emotional
expansion — for true catholicity of mind manufactures charity
in the heart; and toleration is the real mesmeric current which
brings the extremes of humanity en rapport, — is the veritable
ubiquitous Samaritan always provided with wine and oil for the
bruised and helpless, who are strewn along the highway of life;
and those who penetrated beyond the polished surface of Dr.
Grey's character, realized that no tinge of cynicism, no affectation
of contempt for his country and countrymen lurked in his
heart, while erudition and foreign sojourning seemed only to
have warmed and intensified his sympathy with all noble aims
— his compassion for all grovelling ones.

That his compulsory return to the uneventful routine of life
at the homestead, involved a sacrifice which he would gladly

have avoided, he did not attempt to deny; but having invested
a large amount of earnest, vigorous faith in the final conservatism
of that much-abused monster which the seditious army of
the Disappointed anathematize as “Bad Luck,” he went to work
contentedly in this new sphere of action, and waited patiently
and trustfully for the slow grinding of the great mill of Compensation,
into whose huge hopper Fate had unceremoniously
poured all his plans.

His advent produced a very decided sensation not only in the
quiet neighborhood in which the farm was located, but also in
the adjacent town where the memory of Daniel Grey's meteoric
ascent to pecuniosity still lingered in the minds of the oldest
citizens, and pleasantly paved the way for a cordial reception of
the fortunate son who inherited not only his mother's comeliness
but his father's hoarded wealth.

Living in the middle of the nineteenth century, and in a
hemisphere completely antipodal to that in which Utopia was
situated, or “Bensalem” dreamed of, the appearance of a good-looking,
well-educated, affluent bachelor could not fail to stir all
gossipdom to its dregs; and society, ever tenderly concerned
about the individual affairs of its prominent members, was all
agog — busily arranging for the ci-devant United States Surgeon
a programme, than which he would sooner have undertaken the
feats of Samson or the Avatars of Vishnu.

His published card, announcing the fact that he had permanently
located in the city and was a patient candidate for the
privilege of setting fractured limbs and administering medicine,
somewhat dashed the expectations of many who conjectured
that the Grey estate could not possibly be worth the amount so
long reputed, or the principal heir would certainly not soil his
fingers with pills and plasters, instead of sauntering and dawdling
with librettos, lorgnettes, meerschaums, and curiously-carved
canes cut in the Hebrides or the jungles of Java.

Over the door of that office, where the Angel of Death had
smitten his father thirty-five years before, a new sign swung
in the breeze, and showed the citizens the name of “Dr. Ulpian
Grey. Office hours from nine to ten, and from two to three.”

The members of the profession called formally to welcome
him to a share of their annual profits, and collectively gave him
a dinner; the “best families” invited him to tea or luncheon,
croquet or “German,” and thus, having accomplished his professional
and social début, Ulpian Grey, M.D., henceforth
claimed and exercised the privilege of selecting his associates,
and employing his time as inclination prompted.

In the comprehensive course of study to which he had so
long devoted his attention, he had not omitted that immemorial
stereotyped volume — Human Nature — which, despite the
attempted revisions of sages, politicians, and ecclesiastics,
remains as immutable as the everlasting hills; printing upon
the leaves of the youngest century phases of guilt and guilelessness
which find their prototypes in the gray dawn of time, when
the “morning stars sang together,” — yea, busy to-day as of
yore, slaughtering Abel, stoning Stephen, fretting Moses, crucifying
Christ. Finding much that was admirable, and more that
seemed ignoble, he gravely and reverently sought to possess
himself of the subtle arcana of this marvellous book, rejecting
as equally erroneous and unreliable the magnifying zeal of
optimism and the gloomy jaundiced lenses of sneering pessimism,
— thoroughly satisfied that it was a solemn duty, obligatory
upon all, to study that complex paradoxical human nature, for
the mastery of which Lucifer and Jesus had ceaselessly battled
since the day when Adam and Eve were called “to dress and
to keep” the Garden by the Euphrates, — that heaven-born,
heaven-cursed, restless human nature, which now, as then, —

A few days' residence under the same roof, and a guarded
observation of Salome's conduct, sufficed to acquaint Dr. Grey
with the ungenerous motives that induced her chagrin at his
return; and, without permitting her to suspect that he had so
accurately read her character, he endeavored as unobtrusively

as possible to bridge by kindness and courtesy the chasm of
jealous distrust which divided them.

Indolent and self-indulgent, she neither brooked dictation,
nor gracefully accepted any suggestions at variance with the
reigning whim; for, since she became an inmate of Miss Jane's
hospitable home, existence had been a mere dreamy, aimless
succession of golden dawns and scarlet-curtained sunsets — a
slow, quiet lapsing of weeks into months, —an almost stagnant
stream curled by no eddies, freighted with few aspirations,
bearing no drift.

The circumstances and associations of her early life had destroyed
her faith in abstract nobility of character; self-abnegation
she neither comprehended nor deemed possible; and
of a stern, innate moral heroism she was utterly sceptical;
consequently a delicately graduated scale of selfishness was the
sole balance by which she was wont to weigh men and women.

Her irregular method of study and desultory reading had
rather enervated than strengthened a mind naturally clear and
vigorous, and left its acquisitions in a confused and kaleidoscopic
mass, bordering upon intellectual salmagundi.

One warm afternoon, on his return from town, as Dr. Grey
ascended the steps he noticed Salome reclining on a bamboo
settee at the western end of the gallery, where the sunshine was
hot and glaring, unobstructed by the thin leafy screen of vines
that drooped from column to column on the southern and
eastern sides of the building. If conscious of his approach she
vouchsafed not the slightest intimation of it, and when he stood
beside her she remained so immovable that he might have
imagined her asleep but for the lambent light which rayed out
from eyes that seemed intently numbering the soft fluttering
young leaves on a distant clump of elm trees, which made a
lace-like tracery of golden glimmer and quivering shadow on the
purple-headed clover at their feet.

Her fair but long slender fingers carelessly held a book that
threatened to slip from their light relaxing grasp, and compressing
his lips in order to smother a smile under his heavy moustache,

Dr. Grey stooped and put his hand on her plump white
wrist, where the blue veins were running riot.

“So young, — yet cataleptic! Unfortunate, indeed,” he murmured.

She shook off his touch, and instantly sat erect.

“I should be glad to know what you mean.”

“I have an admirable, nay, I venture to add, an almost
infalliable prescription for catalepsy, which has cured two chronic
and apparently hopeless cases, and it will afford me great pleasure
to try the third experiment upon you, since you seem
pitiably in want of a remedy.”

“Thank you. Were I as free from all other ills that `flesh
is heir to,' as I certainly am of the taint of catalepsy, I might
indeed congratulate myself upon an immunity which would
obviate the dire necessity of ever meeting a physician.”

“Are you sure that you sufficiently understand the symptoms,
to recognize them unerringly?”

The rose tint in her cheeks deepened to scarlet, as she haughtily
drew herself up to her full height, and answered, —

“Dr. Grey himself is not more sagacious and adroit in detecting
them; especially when open eyes discover unwelcome
and disagreeable objects, which, wishing to avoid, they are still
compelled to see. I hope you are satisfied that I comprehend
you.”

“My meaning was not so occult as to justify a doubt upon
that subject; and moreover, Salome, lack of astuteness is far
from being your greatest defect. My motive should eloquently
plead pardon for my candor, if I venture to tell you that your
frequent affectation of unconsciousness of the presence of others,
`is a custom more honored in the breach than the observance,'
and may prove prolific of annoyance in coming years; for curtesy
constitutes the key-stone in the beautiful arch of social amenities
which vaults the temple of Christian virtues. Lest you should
take umbrage at my frankness, which ought to assure you of my
interest in your happiness and improvement, permit me to
remind you of the oriental definition of a faithful friend, that
has more pith than verbal polish, —

Rising, Salome swept him a profound courtesy, and, while her
fingers beat a tattoo on the book she held, she watched him
with a peculiar sparkle in her eyes, which he had already learned
to understand was a beacon flame kindled by intense displeasure.
Dr. Grey seated himself, and, taking off his hat, said gently and
winningly, as he pushed aside the hair that clustered in brown
rings over his forehead, —

“Here is ample room for both of us. Sit down, and be reasonable;
and let me catch a glimpse of the amiable elements which
I feel assured must exist somewhere in your nature, notwithstanding
your persistent endeavor to conceal them. Your
Janus character has hitherto breathed only war — war; but,
my young friend, I earnestly invoke its peaceful phase.”

The kindness of tone and evident sincerity of manner might
have disarmed a prejudice better founded than hers; but wrath
consumed all scruples, and, recollecting his forbearance with
various former acts of rudeness, she presumed to attempt further
aggressions.

Waving her hand in tacit rejection of the proffered share of
the settee, she answered with more emphasis than perspicuity
demanded, —

“Does your reading of the book of Job encourage you to
believe that when those self-appointed counsellors — Eliphaz
the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite —
returned to their respective homes, they had cause to congratulate
themselves upon their cordial welcome to Job's bank of
ashes, or felt bountifully repaid for their voluntary mission of
advice?”

“Unfortunately, no. My study of the record of the man
of Uz renders painfully patent that humiliating fact — old as
humanity — that sanctity of motive is no coat-of-mail to the
luckless few who bravely bear to the hearts of those with whom
they associate the unwelcome burden of unflattering truths.

Phraseology — definitions — vary with advancing centuries,
but not so the human impulses they express or explain; and
friendship in the days of Job was the identical `Mutual Admiration
Society,' which at present converts its consistent servile
members into Damon and Pythias, but punishes any violation
of its canons with hatred dire and inextinguishable. Were I
blessed with the genius of Praxiteles or of Angelo, I would
chisel and bequeath to the world a noble statue, — typical of
that rare, fearless friendship, which, walking through the lazaretto
of diseased and morbid natures, bears not honied draughts alone,
but scalpel, caustic, and bitter tonics.”

The calm sweetness of voice and mien lent to his words an
influence which no amount of gall or satire could have imparted;
and, in the brief silence that ensued, Salome's heart was suddenly
smitten with a humiliating consciousness of her childish
flippancy, — her utter inferiority to this man, who seemed to
walk serenely in a starry plane far beyond the mire where she
grovelled.

Ridicule braced and exaggerated her weaknesses, and the
strokes of sarcasm she could adroitly parry; but for persistent
magnanimity she was no match, and recoiled before it like the
traditional Fiend at sight of the Santo Sudario. Watching her
companion's quiet countenance, she saw a shadow drift over it,
betokening neither anger nor scorn, but serious regret; and
involuntarily she drooped her head to avoid the eyes that now
turned full upon her.

“Since I became a man, and to some extent capable of discriminating
with reference to the characters of persons with
whom I found myself in contact, I have made and invariably
observed one rule of conduct, — namely, never to associate with
those whom I can not respect. Ignorance, want of refinement,
irritability of temper, and even lack of generous impulses, I can
forgive, when redeemed by candor and stern honesty of purpose;
but arrogance, dissimulation, and all-absorbing selfishness
I will not tolerate. In you I hoped and expected better
qualities than you permit me to find, and I trust you will acquit
me of intentional rudeness if I acknowledge that you have painfully

disappointed me. It was, and still is, my earnest wish to
befriend and to aid you, — to contribute to your happiness, and
cordially sympathize in any annoyances that may surround you;
but thus far you have rendered it impossible for me to esteem
you, and while I do not presume that my good opinion is of any
importance to you, our present relations compel me to request
that our intercourse may in future be characterized by more
urbanity than has yet graced it. My sister has been much
pained by the feelings with which you evidently regard me, and
since you and I are merely guests under her roof, a due deference
to her wishes should certainly repress the exhibition of
antipathies towards those whom she loves. It is her earnest
desire (as expressed in a conversation which I had with her
yesterday) that I should treat you as a young sister; and, for
her sake, I offer you once more, and for the last time, my
hearty assistance in any department in which I am able to render
it.”

“The folds of your flag of truce do not conceal the drawn
sword beneath it; and let me tell you, sir, it is very evident
that `demand' would far better have expressed your purpose
than the word `request.'”

“At least you should not be surprised if I doubt whether
you regard any truce as inviolable, and am inclined to suspect
you of latent treachery.”

“Your accusation of dissimulation is unjust, for I have openly,
fearlessly manifested my prejudice — my aversion.”

“That you dislike me is my misfortune, but that you allow
your detestation to generate discord in our small circle is an
error which I trust you will endeavor to correct. That I have
many faults I shall not attempt to deny; but mutual forbearance
will prove a mutual blessing. For Jane's sake, shall there
not be peace between us?”

Standing before her, he looked gravely down into her face,
where flush and sparkle had died out, and saw — what she
was too proud to confess — that he had partially conquered her
waywardness, that she was reluctantly yielding to his influence;
but he understood her nature too thoroughly to pause contented

with this slight advantage in a contest which he foresaw must
determine the direction of her aims through life.

“Salome, I am waiting for your decision.”

Her lips stirred twice, but the words they framed were either
too haughty or too humble, for she refused them utterance; and,
while she deliberated, two tears settled the question by rolling
swiftly over her cheeks, and falling upon the cherry ribbon at
her throat.

Accepting it as a tacit signature to his terms of capitulation,
and satisfied with the result, Dr. Grey forbore to urge verbal
assurances. Taking the book from her hand, he said, pleasantly,
—

“Are you fond of French? I frequently find you poring over
your grammar.”

“I have never had a teacher, nor have I conquered the conjugations;
consequently, I know comparatively little about the
language.”

“Are you studying it with the intention of familiarizing
yourself with French literature, or merely to enable you to
translate the few phrases that modern writers sprinkle through
novels and essays?”

“For neither purpose, but simply because it is the court
language of the old world; and, if I should succeed in my hope
of visiting Europe, I might regret my ignorance of the universally
received medium of communication.”

“Have you, then, no desire to master those noble bursts of
eloquence by which Racine, Bossuet, Fénélon, and Cousin have
charmed the intellects of all nations?”

“None, whatever. I might as well tell you at once, what you
will inevitably discover ere long if you condescend to inspect
my meagre attainments, that for abstract study I have no more
inclination than to fondle some mummy in the crypts of Cyrene,
or play `blind man's buff' with the corpses in the Morgue.
My limited investments of time and thought in intellectual stock
have been made solely with reference to speedy dividends of
most practical and immediate benefit; and knowledge per se —
knowledge which will not pay me handsome interest — has no

more value in my eyes than a handful of the dust of those Atures
found in the cavern of Ataruipe. Doubtless you think me
pitiably benighted, and possibly I might find more favor in your
sight if I affected a prodigious amount of literary enthusiasm,
and boundless admiration for scholarship and erudition; but
that would prove too troublesome an imposture,—for I am
constitutionally, habitually, and premeditatedly lazy.”

She saw a smile lurking under his heavy lashes, and half
ambushed in the corners of his mouth; and, vaguely conscious
that she was rendering herself ridiculous, she bit her lip with
ill-disguised vexation.

“Salome, I am afraid that under the garb of a jest you
are making me acquainted with a very mournful truth. You
have probably never heard of Lessing, — Gotthold Ephraim
Lessing.”

“Oh, I am not quite as ignorant as a Pitcairn's Islander;
and I think I have somewhere seen that such a person as Lessing
lived at Wolfenbüttel. He once said, `The chase is
always worth more than the quarry.' And again, `Did the
Almighty, holding in his right hand Truth, and in his left
Search after Truth, deign to proffer me the one I might prefer,
— in all humility, but without hesitation, I should request
Search after Truth.' When you have nothing more important
to occupy your attention, give ten minutes' reflection to his
admonition, and perhaps it may declare a dividend years hence.
Last week I found your algebra on the rug before the library
grate, and noticed several sums worked out in pencil on the
margin. Are you fond of mathematics?”

“Not that I am aware of.”

“What progress have you made?”

“My knowledge of arithmetic is barely sufficient to take me
through a brief shopping expedition.”

“Have you no ambition to increase it?”

“Dr. Grey, I have no ambition. That `last infirmity of noble
minds' has never attacked me; and, folding my hands, I chant
ceaselessly to my soul, `Take thine ease, eat, drink, and be
merry.' The rapture of the mathematician, who bows before the

shrine of his favorite science, is to my dull intellect as incomprehensible
as the jargon of metaphysics or the mysteries
wrapped up in Pali cerements. Equations, conic sections, differential
calculus, constitute a skull and cross-bones to which I
allow as wide a berth as possible.”

The weary, dissatisfied expression of her large, luminous eyes,
belied the sneer in her voice and the curl of her thin lip, and
it cost her an effort to answer his next question.

“Will you tell me what rule you have adopted for the distribution
of your time, and the government of your life?”

“Yes, sir; you are heartily welcome to it: `Yet a little
slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep.' Laissez nous
faire. Moreover, Dr. Grey, if you will courteously lend me
your ears, I will favor you with a still more felicitous exposition
of my invaluable organon.”

Stooping suddenly, she raised from the floor a small volume
which had been concealed by her dress, and, as it opened at a
page stained with the juice of a purple convolvulus, she smiled
defiantly, and read with almost scornful emphasis, —

There, Dr. Grey, you have my creed and method, — Laissez nous
faire.”

With a degree of gravity that trenched on sternness, he bowed,
and answered, —

“So be it. I might insist that the closing lines of `Ulysses'
nobly refute all the numbing heresy of the `Lotos Eaters,' —

But I will not rouse you from a lethargy, which, knowing it to
be fatal to all hopes of usefulness, you still deliberately prefer.
Take care, however, lest you bury the one original talent so
deep that you fail to unearth it when the Master demands it in
the final day of restitution. I have questioned you concerning
your studies, because I desired and intended to offer my services
as tutor, while you prosecuted mathematics and the languages;
but I forbear to suggest a course so evidently distasteful to you.
Unless I completely misjudge your character, I fear the day is
not distant, when, haunted by ghosts of strangled opportunities,
you will realize the solemn and painful truth, that, —