all the high feelings of his heart, he knew might be displayed
fearlessly. He did not, indeed, seek to bring those treasured
feelings forward; he did not strive to shine, as it is called, for
that striving must in itself always give a want of ease. But poor,
indeed, must be the mind, dull and slow the imagination, which, out
of the ordinary things of life--ay! even out of the every-day
conversation of beings inferior to itself--does not naturally and
easily derive immense, unfathomable currents of thought, combinations
of fancy, of feeling, and of reflection, which only want the licence
of the will to flow on and sparkle as they go. It is, that the Will
refuses that licence when we are with those that we despise or
dislike: it is, that we voluntarily shut the flood-gates, and will
not allow the streams to rush forth. But with Wilton it was very,
very different now: he was in the presence of one whose eye was
sunshine to him, whose mind was of an equal tone with his own; and
there was besides in his bosom that strong passion in its strongest
form which gives to everything it mingles with its own depth, and
intensity, and power--which, like a mountain torrent, suddenly poured
into the bed of some summer rivulet, changes it at once in force, in
speed, in depth--that passion which has made dumb men eloquent, and
cowards brave.
Thus, though the conversation began with ordinary subjects, touched
but upon matters of taste and amusement, and approached deeper
feelings only as a deviation from its regular course, yet at every
turn it took, Wilton's mind displayed its richness and its power;
till the Duke, who had considerable taste and natural feeling, as
well as high cultivation of mind, looked with surprise and admiration
towards his daughter; and every now and then Laura herself, almost
breathless with mingled feelings of pleasure, pride, and affection,
turned her eyes upon her father, and marked his sensations with a
happy smile.
And yet it was all so natural, so easy, so unaffected, that one felt
there was neither effort nor presumption. There was nothing of what
the vulgar mass of common society call eloquence about it; but there
was the true eloquence, which by a single touch wakes the sound that
we desire to produce in the heart of another: which by one bright
instantaneous flash lights up, to the perception of every one around,
each point that we wish them to behold. Eloquence consists not in
many words, but in few words: the thoughts, the associations