"
"Do you think the example tells on him?" I ventured on asking.
"I can hardly say it does," was the answer. "George used to point to
Harold Alison as a specimen of a vigorous physical development so
perfectly balanced as to be in a manner self-adjusting, without need
of what he called imaginative influences. I always thought he was a
little staggered that evening that he had to summon you, Miss Alison,
to his help; but he had some theory of sentiment to account for it,
and managed, as people do, to put it aside. Lately, however, he has
been looking on, he says, with curiosity--I believe with something
more. You see he reveres Alison for what he is, not for what he
knows."
"Of course not; your brother must know far more than Harold."
"But the strength of character and will impresses him. The bending
of such a nature to faith, the acceptance of things spiritual, by one
_real_, unimaginative and unsophisticated, and, above all, the _self_
conquest, just where a great Greek hero would have failed, have
certainly told on George, so that I see more hope than I have ever
done before."
So careful of me was Mr. Yolland, that he only parted with me at
Randall Horsman's door, where I was gladly welcomed by the master of
the house, and found my poor little niece a grievous spectacle, and
so miserable with the horrible illness, that she only showed her
pleasure in my coming by fretting whenever anyone else touched her.
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