e had been sitting up all night, whether in study or what
he called wassail; but I could always guess the fact from his
appearance. His method of work was equally irregular, and he lived from
hand to mouth. He would be idle as a forced peach on a hot-house wall
(to use a simile of his own) for weeks at a time; and yet when he was
seized with a desire to work, it was no uncommon thing for him to paint
or compose twenty-four hours at a sitting, and come to the Bureau or my
house, almost before I was out of bed, with dishevelled raiment and
bloodshot eyes, to exhibit or read to me the result of his industry.

I had by this time ceased to regard him with any seriousness as a
philosopher. Indeed, it was difficult not to consider his vagaries
self-indulgence; and from the veneration I conceived for him at the
start, I came to be his mentor in the end. I dared to remonstrate with
him on the irresponsible life he was leading, and sought to inculcate in
him the doctrine of moderation. I felt that I had an influence over him;
and it was the consciousness of this that prompted me not to be too
severe in the matter of his attentions and little gifts. When I talked
to him, as I often did, on the error of his ways and the waste of his
talents, he would listen to me with tears in his eyes, and promise
better things for the future. He would become systematic and serious in
his habits and work. Without becoming a convert to moderation, he would
develop his own scheme of philosophy in an artistic spirit. There was a
limit even to extremes, he said; and that limit scientifically
determined would induce a perfect happiness. When he talked thus, I felt
I could afford to be indifferent to the insinuations and playful sallies
of Miss Kingsley and Mrs. Marsh. They might think what they chose of our
relations. If by the exercise of sympathy and counsel I could regenerate
a man of strong individuality and striking natural gifts from the thrall
of self-indulgence, a fig for the idle voice of gossip!

Meanwhile, I grieve to say that my intimacy with Aunt Helen was
strained. Many were the tears she shed over my degeneracy, and no words
of mine could make her see other than a foolish waste of golden
opportunities in the course I was pursuing. This disturbed me greatly,
for my attachment to her was very strong, and I knew she would have cut
off her right hand to serve me. Our interviews were largely lachrymose
on her part and morose on mine, after ar