Page:Female Prose Writers of America.djvu/311

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ELIZABETH BOGART
277

of his behaviour made an impression on my childish fancy; and though then incapable of judging of character or talent, I listened to his fluent and fascinating conversation with wonder and delight. He was indeed a young man of most astonishing powers. His Proteus mind assumed a thousand different shapes, from its inexhaustible store of knowledge, observation, and uncommon originality. The current of his ideas never ceased to flow for an instant; and what was more remarkable, they passed over nothing in their course without adding a new touch of brilliancy, beauty, or vigour. No subject escaped his attention, nor was beyond his mastery. His giant intellect grasped the whole range of literature and science, and held them as nothing in its strength: and while others were seeking with weary labour their hidden treasures, he drew forth the pearls from their unfathomed depths, and cast them around him with an unsparing hand. His face and figure were eminently handsome; but the expression of his eyes I have never forgotten. It was wily, dark, and unstable. His sudden glance was like the lightning flash, which carries with it an involuntary thrill of fear. It told that the heart was not right. The seeds of vice had fallen promiscuously on its prolific soil, and choked, in their wild luxuriance, the early growth of virtue. * * * * *

[This character is justified by his after-course in life. He is convicted of forgery, and sentenced to the State Prison, from which “durance vile” he is released after three years, by a pardon from the Governor.] It was a bright and beautiful morning, when the bars were removed, and the bolts withdrawn from his prison doors; and he came forth from the gloomy and frowning edifice, a solitary being in the midst of a gay and populous city. The clear heavens, and the bright earth, and the varied objects which met his eager gaze, yielded him no thought of pleasure;

“For bitter shame had spoiled the sweet world’s taste.”

He knew that he could have no communion with those whom he had once known: and as he wandered on among the multitude of busy and happy faces, he experienced a feeling of hatred to mankind, mingled with a sense of desolation more withering to his