A mortal who possesses no quality likely to be envied by
those around him is certain to belong to the rank and file of
humanity. But these unconsidered units of mankind can always
console themselves with the undoubted fact that mediocrity is
invariably happy.
Such a man as Random would never set the Thames on fire, and
certainly he had no ambition to perform that astounding feat. He
was fond of his profession and intended to remain in the army as
long as he could. He desired to marry and beget a family, and
retire, when set free from soldiering, to his country seat, and
there perform blamelessly the congenial role of a village squire,
until called upon to join the respectable corpses in the Random
vault. Not that he was a saint or ever could be one. Neither
black nor white, he was simply gray, being an ordinary mixture of
good and bad. As theology has provided no hereafter for gray
people, it is hard to imagine where the bulk of humanity will go.
But doubts on this point never troubled Random. He went to
church, kept his mouth shut and his pores open and vaguely
believed that it would be all right somehow. A very comfortable
if superficial philosophy indeed.
It can easily be guessed that Random's somewhat colorless
personality would never attract Lucy Kendal, since the hues of
her own character were deeper.
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