It made my father absolutely an
old man; and it also changed Martyn. His first contact with
responsibility, suffering, and death had demolished the light-
hearted boyishness which had lasted in the youngest of the family
through all his high aspirations. Till his return to Oxford, his
chief solace was in getting some one of us alone, going through all
the scenes at Baden, discussing his new impressions of the trials
and perplexities of life, and seeking out passages in the books that
were becoming our oracles. What he had admired externally before,
he was grasping from within; nor can I describe what the Lyra
Apostolica, and the two first volumes of Parochial Sermons preached
at Littlemore, became to us.
Mr. Clarkson had been rather dry with my brothers at Baden,
evidently considering that poor Griffith had been as fatal to his
sister as we thought Selina had been to our brother. It was hardly
just, for there had been much more to spoil in him than in her; and
though she would hardly have trod a much higher path, there is no
saying what he might have been but for her.
Griffith had said nothing about providing for her, not having
forgiven her till he was past recollecting the need, but her brother
had intimated that something was due from the family, and Clarence
had assented--not, indeed, as to her deserts, poor woman, but her
claims and her needs--well knowing that my father would never suffer
Griff's widow to be in want.
Pages:
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345