nd?"

"My brother," said I, mournfully, and in a tone which startled him,--it
was so different from that which I usually assumed,--"my brother, hear
before you reproach me. Let us sit down upon this bank, and I will
suffer you to see more of my restless and secret heart than any hitherto
have beheld."

We sat down upon a little mound: how well I remember the spot! I can
see the tree which shadows it from my window at this moment. How many
seasons have the sweet herb and the emerald grass been withered there
and renewed! Ah, what is this revival of all things fresh and youthful
in external Nature but a mockery of the wintry spot which lies perished
and _irrenewable_ within!

We drew near to each other, and as my arm wound around him, I said,
"Aubrey, your love has been to me a more precious gift than any who
have not, like me, thirsted and longed even for the love of a dog,
can conceive. Never let me lose that affection! And do not think of me
hereafter as of one whose heart echoed all that his lip uttered. Do not
believe that irony, and sarcasm, and bitterness of tongue flowed from
a malignant or evil source. That disposition which seems to you
alternately so light and gloomy had, perhaps, its origin in a mind too
intense in its affections, and too exacting in having them returned.
Till you sought my friendship, three short years ago, none but my uncle,
with whom I could have nothing in common but attachment, seemed to
care for my very existence. I blame them not; they were deceived in my
nature: but blame _me_ not too severely if my temper suffered from their
mistake. Your friendship came to me, not too late to save me from a
premature misanthropy, but too late to eradicate every morbidity of
mind. Something of sternness on the one hand, and of satire on the
other, has mingled so long with my better feelings that the taint and
the stream have become inseparable. Do not sigh, Aubrey. To be unamiable
is not to be ungrateful; and I shall not love you the less if I have
but a few objects to love. You ask me my inducement to leave you. 'The
World' will be sufficient answer. I cannot share your contempt of
it, nor your fear. I am, and have been of late, consumed with a
thirst,--eager, and burning, and unquenchable: it is ambition!"

"Oh, Morton!" said Aubrey, with a second sigh, longer and deeper than
the first, "that evil passion! the passion which lost an angel heaven."

"Let us not now dispute, my brother, whether it