of
their friendship, and he puzzled over it. But these idle fancies would
pass away; they were already less troublesome. A long country walk with
Morton, during which they conversed only of things intellectual, did
him much good. Not long ago Morton had had a visit from an old
Cambridge friend, a man who had devoted himself to the study of a
certain short period of English history, and hoped, some ten years
hence, to produce an authoritative work on the subject.

'There's a man I envy!' cried Rolfe, when he had listened to Basil's
humorous description of the enthusiast. 'It's exactly what I should
like to do myself.'

'What prevents you?'

'Idleness--irresolution--the feeling that the best of my life is over.
I have never been seriously a student, and it's too late to begin now.
But if I were ten years younger, I would make myself master of
something. What's the use of reading only to forget? In my time I have
gone through no small library of historical books--and it's all a mist
on the mind's horizon. That comes of reading without method, without a
purpose. The time I have given to it would have made me a pundit, if I
had gone to work reasonably.'

'Isn't my case the same?' exclaimed Morton. 'What do I care! I enjoyed
my reading and my knowledge at the time, and that's all I ever
expected.'

'Very well--though you misrepresent yourself. But for me it isn't
enough. I want to know something as well as it can be known. Purely for
my own satisfaction; the thought of "doing something" doesn't come in
at all. I was looking at your county histories this morning, and I felt
a huge longing to give the rest of my life to some little bit of
England, a county, or even a town, and exhaust the possibilities of
knowledge within those limits. Why, Greystone here--it has an
interesting history, even in relation to England at large; and what a
delight there would be in following it out, doggedly,
invincibly--making it one's single subject--grubbing after it in
muniment-rooms and libraries--learning by heart every stone of the old
town--dying at last with the consolation that nobody could teach one
anything more about it!'

'I know the mood,' said Morton, laughing.

'I'm narrowing down,' pursued Harvey. 'Once I had tremendous
visions--dreamt of holding half a dozen civilisations in the hollow of
my hand. I came back from the East in a fury to learn the Oriental
languages--made a start, you know, with Arabic. I dropped one natio