some degree,
with the vigorous movement of the world. But I have no sympathy with the
purely selfish pleasure which some men appear to derive from dwelling on
the minute anatomy of their own feelings, under the pressure of adverse
fortune. Let the domestic record of our stagnant life in Perthshire (so
far as I am concerned in it) be presented in my mother's words, not in
mine. A few lines of extract from the daily journal which it was her
habit to keep will tell all that need be told before this narrative
advances to later dates and to newer scenes.

"20th August.--We have been two months at our home in Scotland, and I
see no change in George for the better. He is as far as ever, I fear,
from being reconciled to his separation from that unhappy woman. Nothing
will induce him to confess it himself. He declares that his quiet life
here with me is all that he desires. But I know better! I have been into
his bedroom late at night. I have heard him talking of her in his sleep,
and I have seen the tears on his eyelids. My poor boy! What thousands
of charming women there are who would ask nothing better than to be his
wife! And the one woman whom he can never marry is the only woman whom
he loves!

"25th.--A long conversation about George with Mr. MacGlue. I have never
liked this Scotch doctor since he encouraged my son to keep the fatal
appointment at Saint Anthony's Well. But he seems to be a clever man in
his profession--and I think, in his way, he means kindly toward George.
His advice was given as coarsely as usual, and very positively at the
same time. 'Nothing will cure your son, madam, of his amatory passion
for that half-drowned lady of his but change--and another lady. Send
him away by himself this time; and let him feel the want of some kind
creature to look after him. And when he meets with that kind creature
(they are as plenty as fish in the sea), never trouble your head about
it if there's a flaw in her character. I have got a cracked tea-cup
which has served me for twenty years. Marry him, ma'am, to the new one
with the utmost speed and impetuosity which the law will permit.' I hate
Mr. MacGlue's opinions--so coarse and so hard-hearted!--but I sadly fear
that I must part with my son for a little while, for his own sake.

"26th.--Where is George to go? I have been thinking of it all through
the night, and I cannot arrive at a conclusion. It is so difficult to
reconcile myself to letting him go away alone.