il further humours develop, trying these
nascent conservatives hard to suit them to their moods as well as the
accustomed. Lord Fleetwood had discovered in his companion, besides the
spirit of independence and the powers of thought impressed on him by
Woodseer's precocious flashes, a broad playfulness, that trenched on
buffoonery; it astonished, amused, and relieved him, loosening the spell
of reverence cast over him by one who could so wonderfully illumine his
brain. Prone to admire and bend the knee where he admired, he chafed
at subjection, unless he had the particular spell constantly renewed.
A tone in him once or twice of late, different from the comrade's, had
warned Woodseer to be guarded.

Susceptible, however, of the extreme contrast between the gamblers below
and Nature's lover beside him, Fleetwood returned to his enthusiasm
without thinking it a bondage.

'I shall never forget the walk we 've had. I have to thank you for the
noblest of pleasures. You 've taught me--well, a thousand things; the
things money can't buy. What mornings they were! And the dead-tired
nights! Under the rock and up to see the snowy peak pink in a gap of
thick mist. You were right: it made a crimsoning colour shine like a
new idea. Up in those mountains one walks with the divinities, you said.
It's perfectly true. I shall remember I did. I have a treasure for life!
Now I understand where you get your ideas. The life we lead down there
is hoggish. You have chosen the right. You're right, over and over
again, when you say, the dirty sweaters are nearer the angels for
cleanliness than my Lord and Lady Sybarite out of a bath, in chemical
scents. A man who thinks, loathes their High Society. I went through
Juvenal at college. But you--to be sure, you add example--make me feel
the contempt of it more. I am everlastingly indebted to you. Yes, I
won't forget: you preach against the despising of anything.

This was pleasant in Woodseer's ears, inasmuch as it established the
young nobleman as the pupil of his philosophy for the conduct of life;
and to fortify him, he replied:

'Set your mind on the beauty, and there'll be no room for comparisons.
Most of them are unjust, precious few instructive. In this case, they
spoil both pictures: and that scene down there rather hooks me; though
I prefer the Dachstein in the wane of the afterglow. You called it
Carinthia.'

'I did: the beautiful Gorgon, haggard Venus--if she is to be a girl!'
Fleet