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An
eminent
philosopher
among
my
friends
,
who
can
dignify
even
your
ugly
furniture
by
lifting
it
into
the
serene
light
of
science
,
has
shown
me
this
pregnant
little
fact
.
Your
pier
-
glass
or
extensive
surface
of
polished
steel
made
to
be
rubbed
by
a
housemaid
,
will
be
minutely
and
multitudinously
scratched
in
all
directions
;
but
place
now
against
it
a
lighted
candle
as
a
centre
of
illumination
,
and
lo
!
the
scratches
will
seem
to
arrange
themselves
in
a
fine
series
of
concentric
circles
round
that
little
sun
.
It
is
demonstrable
that
the
scratches
are
going
everywhere
impartially
and
it
is
only
your
candle
which
produces
the
flattering
illusion
of
a
concentric
arrangement
,
its
light
falling
with
an
exclusive
optical
selection
.
These
things
are
a
parable
.
The
scratches
are
events
,
and
the
candle
is
the
egoism
of
any
person
now
absent
—
of
Miss
Vincy
,
for
example
.
Rosamond
had
a
Providence
of
her
own
who
had
kindly
made
her
more
charming
than
other
girls
,
and
who
seemed
to
have
arranged
Fred
’
s
illness
and
Mr
.
Wrench
’
s
mistake
in
order
to
bring
her
and
Lydgate
within
effective
proximity
.
It
would
have
been
to
contravene
these
arrangements
if
Rosamond
had
consented
to
go
away
to
Stone
Court
or
elsewhere
,
as
her
parents
wished
her
to
do
,
especially
since
Mr
.
Lydgate
thought
the
precaution
needless
.
Therefore
,
while
Miss
Morgan
and
the
children
were
sent
away
to
a
farmhouse
the
morning
after
Fred
’
s
illness
had
declared
itself
,
Rosamond
refused
to
leave
papa
and
mamma
.
Poor
mamma
indeed
was
an
object
to
touch
any
creature
born
of
woman
;
and
Mr
.
Vincy
,
who
doted
on
his
wife
,
was
more
alarmed
on
her
account
than
on
Fred
’
s
.
But
for
his
insistence
she
would
have
taken
no
rest
:
her
brightness
was
all
bedimmed
;
unconscious
of
her
costume
which
had
always
been
se
fresh
and
gay
,
she
was
like
a
sick
bird
with
languid
eye
and
plumage
ruffled
,
her
senses
dulled
to
the
sights
and
sounds
that
used
most
to
interest
her
.
Fred
’
s
delirium
,
in
which
he
seemed
to
be
wandering
out
of
her
reach
,
tore
her
heart
.
After
her
first
outburst
against
-
Mr
.
Wrench
she
went
about
very
quietly
:
her
one
low
cry
was
to
Lydgate
.
She
would
follow
him
out
of
the
room
and
put
her
hand
on
his
arm
moaning
out
,
"
Save
my
boy
.
"
Once
she
pleaded
,
"
He
has
always
been
good
to
me
,
Mr
.
Lydgate
:
he
never
had
a
hard
word
for
his
mother
,
"
—
as
if
poor
Fred
’
s
suffering
were
an
accusation
against
him
.
All
the
deepest
fibres
of
the
mother
’
s
memory
were
stirred
,
and
the
young
man
whose
voice
took
a
gentler
tone
when
he
spoke
to
her
,
was
one
with
the
babe
whom
she
had
loved
,
with
a
love
new
to
her
,
before
he
was
born
.
"
I
have
good
hope
,
Mrs
.
Vincy
,
"
Lydgate
would
say
.
"
Come
down
with
me
and
let
us
talk
about
the
food
.
"
In
that
way
he
led
her
to
the
parlor
where
Rosamond
was
,
and
made
a
change
for
her
,
surprising
her
into
taking
some
tea
or
broth
which
had
been
prepared
for
her
.
There
was
a
constant
understanding
between
him
and
Rosamond
on
these
matters
.
He
almost
always
saw
her
before
going
to
the
sickroom
,
and
she
appealed
to
him
as
to
what
she
could
do
for
mamma
.
Her
presence
of
mind
and
adroitness
in
carrying
out
his
hints
were
admirable
,
and
it
is
not
wonderful
that
the
idea
of
seeing
Rosamond
began
to
mingle
itself
with
his
interest
in
the
case
.
Especially
when
the
critical
stage
was
passed
,
and
he
began
to
feel
confident
of
Fred
’
s
recovery
.
In
the
more
doubtful
time
,
he
had
advised
calling
in
Dr
.
Sprague
(
who
,
if
he
could
,
would
rather
have
remained
neutral
on
Wrench
’
s
account
)
;
but
after
two
consultations
,
the
conduct
of
the
case
was
left
to
Lydgate
,
and
there
was
every
reason
to
make
him
assiduous
.
Morning
and
evening
he
was
at
Mr
.
Vincy
’
s
,
and
gradually
the
visits
became
cheerful
as
Fred
became
simply
feeble
,
and
lay
not
only
in
need
of
the
utmost
petting
but
conscious
of
it
,
so
that
Mrs
.
Vincy
felt
as
if
,
after
all
,
the
illness
had
made
a
festival
for
her
tenderness
.
Both
father
and
mother
held
it
an
added
reason
for
good
spirits
,
when
old
Mr
.
Featherstone
sent
messages
by
Lydgate
,
saying
that
Fred
-
must
make
haste
and
get
well
,
as
he
,
Peter
Featherstone
,
could
not
do
without
him
,
and
missed
his
visits
sadly
.
The
old
man
himself
was
getting
bedridden
.
Mrs
.
Vincy
told
these
messages
to
Fred
when
he
could
listen
,
and
he
turned
towards
her
his
delicate
,
pinched
face
,
from
which
all
the
thick
blond
hair
had
been
cut
away
,
and
in
which
the
eyes
seemed
to
have
got
larger
,
yearning
for
some
word
about
Mary
—
wondering
what
she
felt
about
his
illness
.
No
word
passed
his
lips
;
but
"
to
hear
with
eyes
belongs
to
love
’
s
rare
wit
,
"
and
the
mother
in
the
fulness
of
her
heart
not
only
divined
Fred
’
s
longing
,
but
felt
ready
for
any
sacrifice
in
order
to
satisfy
him
.
"
If
I
can
only
see
my
boy
strong
again
,
"
she
said
,
in
her
loving
folly
;
"
and
who
knows
?
—
perhaps
master
of
Stone
Court
!
and
he
can
marry
anybody
he
likes
then
.
"
"
Not
if
they
won
’
t
have
me
,
mother
,
"
said
Fred
.
The
illness
had
made
him
childish
,
and
tears
came
as
he
spoke
.
"
Oh
,
take
a
bit
of
jelly
,
my
dear
,
"
said
Mrs
.
Vincy
,
secretly
incredulous
of
any
such
refusal
.
