"Bless me!" murmured the professor aloud, taking
the pipe from his mouth, and bringing his heavy eyebrows together in a
thoughtful frown.
He would scarcely have believed, in his younger years, that he would
have remained anywhere so long, without even a thought of changing the
scene. But then, his society days were over long ago, and he had seen
all he ever intended to see of the world. Here he had his house, and his
daily newspaper, and his books, and his garden, and the love and respect
of his daughters and fellow-townspeople. Was not that enough--was it not
all he could desire? But here, insensibly, the professor's eyes rested
upon the vacant spot at the summit of the hill opposite.
Very few people, be they never so old, or their circumstances never so
good, would find it impossible to mention something which they believe
they would be the happier for possessing. Perhaps Professor Valeyon was
not one of the exceptions, and was haunted by the idea that, were some
certain event to come to pass, life would be more pleasant and gracious
to him than it was now. Doubtless, however, an ideal aspiration of some
kind, even though it be never realized, is itself a kind of happiness,
without which we might feel at a loss. If the professor's solitary wish
had been fulfilled, and there had been no longer cause for him to say,
"If I had but this, I should be satisfied," might it not still happen
that in some unguarded, preoccupied moment he should start and blush to
find his lips senselessly forming themselves into the utterance of the
old formula? Would it not be a sad humiliation to acknowledge that the
treasure he had all his life craved, did not so truly fill and occupy
his heart as the mere act of yearning after it had done?
In indulging in these speculations, however, we are pretending to a
deeper knowledge of Professor Valeyon's private affairs than is at
present authorizable.
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