Chapter II

Scarcely had I taken my seat in the library after my grandfather
had left us, when Mr. Higgins ordered me to black his boots. This I
proceeded to do with a haughty air, scarcely daring to hope, but
wishing that he would conquer his freezing reserve, and speak to me
again. For I was but a child, and my young heart yearned for
sympathy.

Presently, Mr. Higgins turned his large gray eyes on me, and said:

"Ha!"

After this, he remained in a thoughtful reverie for two hours, and
then turning to me, asked:

"Galushiana, what do you think of me?"

"I think," replied I, carefully putting the blacking-brush in its
place, "that your nature is naturally a noble one, but has been
warped and shadowed by a misconceived impression of the great
arcana of the universe. You permit the genuflexions of human sin to
bias your mind in its estimate of the true economy of creation;
thus blighting, as it were, the fructifying evidences of your own
abstract being--"

I blushed, and feared I had gone too far.

"Very true," responded Mr. Higgins, after a moment's pause;
"Schiller says nearly the same thing. It was a sense of man's utter
nothingness that led me to kill my grandmother, and poison the
helpless offspring of my elder brother."

Here Mr. Higgins held down his head and quivered with emotions, as
the ocean quakes under the shrieking howl of the blast.

I felt my whole being convulsed, and could not endure the
spectacle. I stole softly to the door, and stammered through my
tears, "Good-night, Mr. Higgins, I will pray for you."

He did not turn his noble head, but said, in firm tones: "Poor
little beast, good night."

I went to my room, but could not sleep. Shortly after half-past two
o'clock I crawled noiselessly down to the library-door and looked
in. Mr. Higgins still sat before the fire in the same thoughtful
position. "Poor little beast!" I heard him murmur softly to
himself--"poor little beast!"