The Laughing Mill, and Other Stories — John Stuart Mill — John Shaqi
The Laughing Mill, and Other Stories
John Stuart Mill · en
They sat down round the broad hearth, the guest between the lovers; and
as the firelight flickered over them, so flickered and fell and rose
again their conversation. It often happens that, when we anticipate
saying most, we find the least to say; and somewhat thus did it fall
out in the present instance: or, perhaps, because in a meeting like
this, however thoroughly foreshadowed and anticipated, there is apt
to be a good deal of strangeness and unexpected diffidence to be
overcome,--perhaps it was for this reason that speech flowed but
intermittently for a while. Nevertheless, the lovers could feel
that they were every moment growing more and more into sympathy and
understanding with their new old friend, and doing so even more speedily
and completely than might have been possible through the uncertain
medium of words. He diffused around him, without effort, and apparently
without being conscious of it, a gentle and winning influence which was
fairly irresistible; so that by-and-by Psyche and Eros fancied that
never before had they known him so well as now. At the same time,
however, Psyche was inwardly aware of a great, yet indescribable, change
from that Mortimer who had bidden her farewell nine years before. The
principle, the genius of the man remained; but it existed now within the
sphere of such a mighty and grand personality as transcended all she had
previously known or conceived. It was as if some beneficent angel had
stooped from heaven to visit them, and, lest his celestial splendour
should overwhelm them, had assumed the guise and tone of that human
being in whom they felt the most affectionate trust. Through his manner
and aspect, and the low resounding melody of his utterance, she seemed
to catch glimpses of a power and wisdom almost superhuman; but blended
with a deep kindliness and charity, and a sublimity of nature that were
more human than humanity itself. She looked up to him, not in fear, but
with a loving, familiar kind of reverence; and would have confided to
him the choicest secrets of her heart.
The influence that he exercised was not of that kind which belongs to
superior age. There was in him all the fire and vigour of unquenchable
youth. His lofty figure was as alert and lightsome as it was majestic.
His manner was instinct with gentle sprightliness and playfulness, and
it was impossible not to feel cheery and hopeful in his company. The
curve of his lips, and ever and anon the sudden kindling in his eyes,
betrayed the fiery soul within; yet in everything that he said or did
were visible the traces of a serene and absolute self-control.
"We are glad you came in time," observed Eros at last. "We should never
have got married, I believe, if you had not been here to tie the knot."