Of Morley,
at first Egremont saw a great deal: he lent our friend books,
opened with unreserve and with great richness of speculative
and illustrative power, on the questions which ever engaged
him, and which were new and highly interesting to his
companion. But as time advanced, whether it were that the
occupations of Morley increased, and the calls on his hours
left him fewer occasions for the indulgence of social
intercourse, Egremont saw him seldom, except at Gerard's
cottage, where generally he might be found in the course of
the week, and their rambles together had entirely ceased.
Alone, Egremont mused much over the daughter of Gerard, but
shrinking from the precise and the definite, his dreams were
delightful, but vague. All that he asked was, that his
present life should go on for ever; he wished for no change,
and at length almost persuaded himself that no change could
arrive; as men who are basking in a summer sun, surrounded by
bright and beautiful objects, cannot comprehend how the
seasons can ever alter; that the sparkling foliage should
shrivel and fall away, the foaming waters become icebound, and
the blue serene, a dark and howling space.
In this train of mind, the early days of October having
already stolen on him, an incident occurred which startled him
in his retirement, and rendered it necessary that he should
instantly quit it.
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