The Lock and Key Library: Classic Mystery and Detective Stories: Old Time English
General
The Lock and Key Library: Classic Mystery and Detective Stories: Old Time English
Detective and mystery stories; Fiction; Ghost stories
On his arrival at my house, I became sensible of a truth which I
had observed some years before. The commonplace maxim is, that it
is dangerous to raise expectations too high. This, which is thus
generally expressed, and without limitation, is true only
conditionally; it is true then and there only where there is but
little merit to sustain and justify the expectation. But in any
case where the merit is transcendent of its kind, it is always
useful to rack the expectation up to the highest point. In
anything which partakes of the infinite, the most unlimited
expectations will find ample room for gratification; while it is
certain that ordinary observers, possessing little sensibility,
unless where they have been warned to expect, will often fail to
see what exists in the most conspicuous splendor. In this instance
it certainly did no harm to the subject of expectation that I had
been warned to look for so much. The warning, at any rate, put me
on the lookout for whatever eminence there might be of grandeur in
his personal appearance; while, on the other hand, this existed in
such excess, so far transcending anything I had ever met with in my
experience, that no expectation which it is in words to raise could
have been disappointed.
These thoughts traveled with the rapidity of light through my
brain, as at one glance my eye took in the supremacy of beauty and
power which seemed to have alighted from the clouds before me.
Power, and the contemplation of power, in any absolute incarnation
of grandeur or excess, necessarily have the instantaneous effect of
quelling all perturbation. My composure was restored in a moment.
I looked steadily at him. We both bowed. And, at the moment when
he raised his head from that inclination, I caught the glance of
his eye; an eye such as might have been looked for in a face of
such noble lineaments--
"Blending the nature of the star
With that of summer skies;"
and, therefore, meant by nature for the residence and organ of
serene and gentle emotions; but it surprised, and at the same time
filled me more almost with consternation than with pity, to observe
that in those eyes a light of sadness had settled more profound
than seemed possible for youth, or almost commensurate to a human
sorrow; a sadness that might have become a Jewish prophet, when
laden with inspirations of woe.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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