The Crayon Papers | Page 7

general observations, but
paused and fixed on me an inquiring eye.
"What is the matter with you?" said he, "you seem agitated; has
anything in particular happened?"
"Nothing," said I, hesitating; "at least nothing worth communicating to
you."
"Nay, my dear young friend," said he, "whatever is of sufficient
importance to agitate you is worthy of being communicated to me."
"Well; but my thoughts are running on what you would think a
frivolous subject."
"No subject is frivolous that has the power to awaken strong feelings."
"What think you," said I, hesitating, "what think you of love?"
Glencoe almost started at the question. "Do you call that a frivolous
subject?" replied he. "Believe me, there is none fraught with such deep,
such vital interest. If you talk, indeed, of the capricious inclination
awakened by the mere charm of perishable beauty, I grant it to be idle
in the extreme; but that love which springs from the concordant
sympathies of virtuous hearts; that love which is awakened by the
perception of moral excellence, and fed by meditation on intellectual as
well as personal beauty; that is a passion which refines and ennobles
the human heart. Oh, where is there a sight more nearly approaching to
the intercourse of angels, than that of two young beings, free from the
sins and follies of the world, mingling pure thoughts, and looks, and
feelings, and becoming, as it were, soul of one soul and heart of one
heart! How exquisite the silent converse that they hold; the soft
devotion of the eye, that needs no words to make it eloquent! Yes, my
friend, if there be anything in this weary world worthy of heaven, it is
the pure bliss of such a mutual affection!"
The words of my worthy tutor overcame all further reserve. "Mr.

Glencoe," cried I, blushing still deeper, "I am in love."
"And is that what you were ashamed to tell me? Oh, never seek to
conceal from your friend so important a secret. If your passion be
unworthy, it is for the steady hand of friendship to pluck it forth; if
honorable, none but an enemy would seek to stifle it. On nothing does
the character and happiness so much depend as on the first affection of
the heart. Were you caught by some fleeting and superficial charm--a
bright eye, a blooming cheek, a soft voice, or a voluptuous form--I
would warn you to beware; I would tell you that beauty is but a passing
gleam of the morning, a perishable flower; that accident may becloud
and blight it, and that at best it must soon pass away. But were you in
love with such a one as I could describe; young in years, but still
younger in feelings; lovely in person, but as a type of the mind's beauty;
soft in voice, in token of gentleness of spirit; blooming in countenance,
like the rosy tints of morning kindling with the promise of a genial day;
an eye beaming with the benignity of a happy heart; a cheerful temper,
alive to all kind impulses, and frankly diffusing its own felicity; a
self-poised mind, that needs not lean on others for support; an elegant
taste, that can embellish solitude, and furnish out its own enjoyments--"
"My dear sir," cried I, for I could contain myself no longer, "you have
described the very person!"
"Why, then, my dear young friend," said he, affectionately pressing my
hand, "in God's name, love on!"
* * * * *
For the remainder of the day I was in some such state of dreamy
beatitude as a Turk is said to enjoy when under the influence of opium.
It must be already manifest how prone I was to bewilder myself with
picturings of the fancy, so as to confound them with existing realities.
In the present instance, Sophy and Glencoe had contributed to promote
the transient delusion. Sophy, dear girl, had as usual joined with me in
my castle-building, and indulged in the same train of imaginings, while
Glencoe, duped by my enthusiasm, firmly believed that I spoke of a
being I had seen and known. By their sympathy with my feelings they

in a manner became associated with the Unknown in my mind, and
thus linked her with the circle of my intimacy.
In the evening, our family party was assembled in the hall, to enjoy the
refreshing breeze. Sophy was playing some favorite Scotch airs on the
piano, while Glencoe, seated apart, with his forehead resting on his
hand, was buried in one of those pensive reveries that made him so
interesting to me.
"What a fortunate being I am!" thought I, "blessed with such a sister
and such a friend! I have only to find out this amiable Unknown, to
wed her, and be happy!