‘There are moments,’ replied he, ‘in the life of every man, when, whether he will or no, the simplest circumstance, such as a note of music, a word, or a moonlight evening like this, will by the subtle law of association call up a train of dead memories, and pour them in a flood tide on the heart; and as these are pleasant or melancholy, will his feelings take their coloring. Here is a little book of Sir Humphry Davy’s, and it has set me weeping; for as I have followed him through one and another of his foolish though beautiful theories, it has called up passages of my life I would fain forget. They are sweet though-- ‘Pleasant are the memories of days in the shades of Morven’-- and I know not but I thank the philosopher though he makes me womanish.’ My companion’s history was unknown to me--I had once or twice wished to ask him--here was a chance. I delicately hinted as much. ‘You ask to your hurt I fear, my young friend,’ said he. ‘Little in my life can interest another. It has seen little action. Feeling--strong, continuous, deep feeling with small variation, is all it boasts; and pleasant as it is to me, it may little please you.’ I was importunate. ‘I had a lovely cousin,’ began he, ‘a very lovely creature, and one for whom I felt all that ardor of attachment, for the description and stories of which, poets and novelists have been so much laughed at. I shall not describe her to you. The graces of her mind only shall I acquaint you with, and through them you must see her countenance. Her parents were dead; and, taken into our house as one of the family, our love went far back beyond our memories, even into childhood, where if we love, it is by some subtle affinity which unconsciously draws kindred spirits together--since at that age we seldom think to dwell upon individual excellences of character. Our love as we knew not when it began, so we knew not its force; yet it was pure, deep, spiritual, and dreaming--that passion which instead of being modified, modifies--instead of becoming assimilated, assimilates--belonging not to the other power, but making those powers its own. Hence our characters were alike. This unity softened down every unhappy prepossession; and the result was, that our loves were like two streams, which though they gush not from the same source, soon after mingle and go quietly on together.