She observed, with the quick tact of the delicate, that he
disliked her to seem affected by, or even sensible of, his darker moods.
She schooled herself to suppress her fears and her feelings. She would
not ask his confidence,--she sought to steal into it. By little and
little she felt that she was succeeding. Too wrapped in his own strange
existence to be acutely observant of the character of others, Glyndon
mistook the self-content of a generous and humble affection for
constitutional fortitude; and this quality pleased and soothed him. It
is fortitude that the diseased mind requires in the confidant whom
it selects as its physician. And how irresistible is that desire to
communicate! How often the lonely man thought to himself, "My heart
would be lightened of its misery, if once confessed!" He felt, too, that
in the very youth, the inexperience, the poetical temperament of Adela,
he could find one who would comprehend and bear with him better than
any sterner and more practical nature. Mervale would have looked on his
revelations as the ravings of madness, and most men, at best, as the
sicklied chimeras, the optical delusions, of disease. Thus gradually
preparing himself for that relief for which he yearned, the moment for
his disclosure arrived thus:--

One evening, as they sat alone together, Adela, who inherited some
portion of her brother's talent in art, was employed in drawing, and
Glyndon, rousing himself from meditations less gloomy than usual, rose,
and affectionately passing his arm round her waist, looked over her as
she sat. An exclamation of dismay broke from his lips,--he snatched the
drawing from her hand: "What are you about?--what portrait is this?"

"Dear Clarence, do you not remember the original?--it is a copy from
that portrait of our wise ancestor which our poor mother used to say
so strongly resembled you. I thought it would please you if I copied it
from memory."

"Accursed was the likeness!" said Glyndon, gloomily. "Guess you not the
reason why I have shunned to return to the home of my fathers!--because
I dreaded to meet that portrait!--because--because--but pardon me; I
alarm you!"

"Ah, no,--no, Clarence, you never alarm me when you speak: only when you
are silent! Oh, if you thought me worthy of your trust; oh, if you had
given me the right to reason with you in the sorrows that I yearn to
share!"

Glyndon made no answer, but paced the room for some moments with
disordered strides.