f the satellites of his grand
parade surrounded him. I saw him walk down the pier like one breaking up
a levee. At times he appeared to me a commanding phantasm in the midst
of phantasm figures of great ladies and their lords, whose names he told
off on his return like a drover counting his herd; but within range of
his eye and voice the reality of him grew overpowering. It seduced me,
and, despite reason, I began to feel warm under his compliments. He
was like wine. Gaiety sprang under his feet. Sitting at my window, I
thirsted to see him when he was out of sight, and had touches of the
passion of my boyhood.

I listened credulously, too, as in the old days, when he repeated, 'You
will find I am a magician, and very soon, Richie, mark me.' His manner
hinted that there was a surprise in store. 'You have not been on
the brink of the grave for nothing.' He resembled wine in the other
conditions attached to its rare qualities. Oh for the choice of having
only a little of him, instead of having him on my heart! The unfilial
wish attacked me frequently: he could be, and was, so ravishing to
strangers and light acquaintances. Did by chance a likeness exist
between us? My sick fancy rushed to the Belthams for a denial. There
did, of some sort, I knew; and the thought partitioned my dreamy
ideas, of which the noblest, taking advantage of my physical weakness,
compelled me to confess that it was a vain delusion for one such as I
to hope for Ottilia. This looking at the roots of yourself, if you are
possessed of a nobler half that will do it, is a sound corrective of an
excessive ambition. Unfortunately it would seem that young men can do
it only in sickness. With the use of my legs, and open-air breathing, I
became compact, and as hungry and zealous on behalf of my individuality,
as proud of it as I had ever been: prouder and hungrier.

My first day of outing, when, looking at every face, I could reflect on
the miraculous issue of mine almost clear from its pummelling, and
above all, that my nose was safe--not stamped with the pugilist's
brand--inspired a lyrical ebullition of gratitude. Who so intoxicated as
the convalescent catching at health?

I met Charles Etherell on the pier, and heard that my Parliamentary
seat was considered in peril, together with a deal of gossip about my
disappearance.

My father, who was growing markedly restless, on the watch for letters
and new arrivals, started to pay Chippenden a flying visit