Year: 1870

gray streaks showing-prematurely indeed


but unmistakably-in his beard and mus
tache. Meanwhile he had been writing ,
good deal, and had been earning almost with
out knowing it, sort of literary and schol
arly name. At length his heart yearned fol
his home, and he went back to the United
States. bearing with him, as the profits o.
his long absence, a mastery of European
languages and literature, some scars, some
gray hairs, and no money. His reputation
however, soon won for him the offer of a
professorship at the university already
spoken of. Theodore Rhodes accepted the
offer, and soon made his mark on the place
His knowledge was deep, his Judgment bold
original and true his eloquence was the
long pent-up utterance of a man who had
been storing and concealing thought and
observation all bis life, and now, at last, has
found listeners, and an opportunity and duty
to speak out. Among the youthful students
Theodore Rhodes become a sort of hero and
oracle. lie had seen, experienced, and suf-
fered so much, that to them he seemed quite
venerable Mentor; and indeed to himself
life appeared all retrospect He was in
reality just inside forty years Of age


Round the university was gathered quite
a growing community, with considerable
wealth in it and much culture Society was
very pleasant there, with a flavor of Origi-
nality and independence about it which
especially suited Theodore Rhodes. Every
new movement, every new book, was taken
up and discussed there no thought was
l prescribed, no prejudice was held sacred !;
the pulse of the little community vibrated
with an active, healthy, inquiring life and
energy. Professor Rhodes bore a high char
acter, and won general confidence. A manly
and honest nature is soon recognized by un-
conventional and congenial people. Rhodes
found admirers among women as well as
men and for all his grizzling beard and his
forty years, he might have easily won a
pretty bride with good fortune and willing
parents. But he sought for no such prize.
Ever SO many years ago, before most of the
pretty girls around him were born, Theodore
| Rhodes had loved, OF fancied he loved, girl
who, when he went TO Europe-led thither
partly by the hope of making name and for
tune tor her-married speedily a wealthy
miller, and Rhodes thereon gave up love
making. But while it is in any man. power
at any time he will, to give up loye-making'
to give up loving Is quite different thing
So, after a while, our Professor found it. |
knew a man once who was driven from his
early home by passion for adventure, for
exploring, for the sea, and who spent years
and years of enterprise aud danger, penetrat-
ing the ice-masses of arctic seas, tracking up





who was many times shipwrecked, and came
of scot free and who, returning home to
pay a visit to old friends and scenes, lost his
way one night on moor familiar To hs
boyhood, and fell into little pond or pool,
and was drowned there. So Theodore
Rhodes had gone through many strange
scenes and experiences unscathed of love,
and came home again 10 be stricken, as it
were, on the very threshold.


One of the closest friends Theodore Rhodes
had in the little community of which he was
now a member, was Mr.. Louis Meredith, a
man of some property and great intelligence,
who had travelled and had ideas. Mr. Mer-
edith was a widower, and had an only daugh-
ter, Cynthia. Now Cynthia was really not
what one could call pretty girl, but she
had a fine figure and noble, expressive
face; and she had a soul which sometimes
spoke with wonderful eloquence of expression
sRsoHYgSh 81! YSh Ae6 sssS ssSeoSs sTs 5ess of a cirTle
but she was a woman to exercise a supreme
influence over some few noble hearts and
natures Theodore Rhodes was her fathers
friend, not hers. lie came near TO her
fathers age. For long time his intercourse
with her was confined 30 a few friendly
words when they met Often her father
and Theodore sat together for long evening
the two men talking now earnestly, now
I W
sat near with her work and listened all the
time, and looked up every low and then
with bright glance of sympathy or quiet
word of dissent, and hardly otherwise took
part in the conversation. Sometimes her
father would ask her to play or sing; and
she did so, sweetly sympathetically : and
/ Theodore listened and found himself swept
away into long-unknown glorious regions OF
youth and poetry and romance. Gradually
/ he and she came to hold more friendly and
direct intercommunication, and then he be-
came astonished and delighted at her fresh
intellectual resources her keen. penetrating
judgment her clear, unconventional way OF
looking at realities her artistic tastes her
pure, refined sympathies. At first he used
TO think within himself, q" If only had such
/ a daughter - And then other thoughts
dawned upon him and Theodore Rhodes
woke up to find himself profoundly and pas
sionately in love.


Alas for the middle-aged Professor and
philosopher His love burned within him
hot and unextinguishable an anthracite
fire; it unsettled all his ways and thoughts
it came between him and his studies it
scorched up the growth of his literary and
philosophical speculations. He chaied and
ragged at it in vain. Many and many a long
mile did he tramp in the lonely, sullen, mid
night hours, in rain and frost and snow
many night did he outwatch the Bear
many time did fling himself down, literally
PROSTATE, and grovel on the floor of his little
study, in humiliation and agony. Neither
walking nor watching, nor prone and pros
trate, could he conquer his passion, or recall


his old, calm active self. lie began to lose
all interest in the studies that once delighted


him, in the scholars whose young voices anC


fresh thoughts used 20 gladden. him. NJ


one on earth, probably, suffers from the love


fever like your middle-aged philosopher, /


once the contagion can seize him.


Why did he keep this thing as a secret
Could he not have spoken? Was there M
hope ? To him there seemed no hope what
ever-the very thought of any possibility o.


hope appeared preposterous. Cynthia wa
about half his age; there was nothing In HIN
to attract any girl; he was her father s friend
| snd apparently her fathers contemporary
and Cynthia had, since she was little NOR
than a child, been affianced to a youth of for
tune who was now in Europe SO Theodor
: could only bear his pain, or try to bear 1t


lie felt himself degenerating under 1t ID


could not conquer it and in the futile stru9
| gle his mental resources seemed all runnln
5 to waste, and he found himself at last ne
r glecting his duties.


, Not that any others could have perceive
this neglect, for his regularity of attendanc


was never varied, and his lectures to ms cia'
q seemed as instructive and valuable as ever
n But he felt in his own heart that be was OF
r ly performing mechanically periunctor
" task; that his soul was no longer In
) work and this his sensitive conscience d'
s clared to be neglect. lie began to fear tht
IS a time would soon come when actual negie'
d would begin to set in when he should pos
z lively be unable to give even mechanic
. attention to his duties. He shuddered as
d heard of the expected return of Miss Mer
IT diths fance and when, in his presence, b
d father spoke Of the young mans speedy COZ
ID ing, and her eyelids fell and her check hush
ID and her manner seemed manifestly agitate