And Constance read, but she warmed at what Godolphin's lip curled with disdain. The sentiments, however, drew him from his apathy; and presently, with the eloquence he could command when once excited, he poured forth the doctrines of his peculiar philosophy. Constance listened, delighted and absorbed; she did not sympathise with the thought, but she was struck with the genius which clothed it. "Ah!" said she, with enthusiasm, "why should those brilliant words be thus spoken and lost for ever? Why not stamp them on the living page, or why not invest them in the oratory that would render you illustrious and them immortal?" "Excellent!" said Godolphin laughing; "the House of Commons would sympathise with philosophy warmly!" Yet Constance was right on the whole. But the curse of a life of pleasure is its aversion to useful activity. Talk of the genius that lies crushed and obscure in poverty! Wealth and station have also their mute Miltons and inglorious Hampdens. Alas! how much of deep and true wisdom do we meet among the triflers of the world! How much that in the stern middle walks of life would have obtained renown, in the withering and relaxed air of loftier ranks dies away unheeded! The two extremes meet in this,--the destruction of mental gifts. CHAPTER XLIX. THE RETURN TO LONDON.--THE ETERNAL NATURE OF DISAPPOINTMENT.--FANNY MILLINGER.--HER HOUSE AND SUPPER. It was in the midst of spring, and at the approach of night, that our travellers entered London. After an absence of some duration, there is a singular emotion on returning to the roar and tumult of that vast city. Its bustle, its life, its wealth--the tokens of the ambition and commerce of the Great Island Race--have something of inconceivable excitement and power, after the comparative desertion and majestic stillness of Continental cities. Constance leaned restlessly forth from the window of the carriage as it whirled on. "Oh, that I were a man!" said she, fervently. "And why?" asked Godolphin, smilingly. "Why! look out on this broad theatre of universal ambition, and read the why. What a proud and various career lies open in this free city to every citizen! Look, look yonder--the old hereditary senate, still eloquent with high memories." "And close by it," said Godolphin, sneering, "behold the tomb!" "Yes, but the tomb of great men!" said Constance, eagerly. "The victims of their greatness." There was a pause; Constance would not reply, she would scarcely listen. "And do you feel no excitement, Percy, in the hum and bustle--the lights, the pomp of your native city?" "Yes; I am in the mart where all enjoyment may be purchased." "Ah, fie!" Godolphin drew his cloak round him, and put up the window. "These cursed east winds!" Very true--they are the curse of the country!