All the time Doctor Bryerly was relating his conference with the head of the family at Bartram–Haugh my cousin commented on the narrative21 with a variety of little “pishes” and sneers22, which I thought showed more of vexation than contempt.

 

I was glad to hear all that Doctor Bryerly related. It gave me a kind of confidence; and I experienced a momentary reaction. After all, could Bartram–Haugh be more lonely than I had found Knowl? Was I not sure of the society of my Cousin Millicent, who was about my own age? Was it not quite possible that my sojourn23 in Derbyshire might turn out a happy though very quiet remembrance through all my after-life? Why should it not? What time or place would be happy if we gave ourselves over to dismal imaginations?

 

 

So the summons reached me from Uncle Silas. The hours at Knowl were numbered.

 

The evening before I departed I visited the full-length portrait of Uncle Silas, and studied it for the last time carefully, with deep interest, for many minutes; but with results vaguer than ever.

 

With a brother so generous and so wealthy, always ready to help him forward; with his talents; with his lithe24 and gorgeous beauty, the shadow of which hung on that canvas — what might he not have accomplished25? whom might he not have captivated? And yet where and what was he? A poor and shunned26 old man, occupying a lonely house and place that did not belong to him, married to degradation27, with a few years of suspected and solitary28 life before him, and then swift oblivion his best portion.