Earnscliff left the
moor with mingled sensations of pity and horror, pondering what strange
and melancholy cause could have reduced to so miserable a state of
mind, a man whose language argued him to be of rank and education much
superior to the vulgar. He was also surprised to see how much particular
information a person who had lived in that country so short a time,
and in so recluse a manner, had been able to collect respecting the
dispositions and private affairs of the inhabitants.
"It is no wonder," he said to himself, "that with such extent of
information, such a mode of life, so uncouth a figure, and sentiments
so virulently misanthropic, this unfortunate should be regarded by the
vulgar as in league with the Enemy of Mankind."
CHAPTER V.
The bleakest rock upon the loneliest heath
Feels, in its barrenness, some touch of spring;
And, in the April dew, or beam of May,
Its moss and lichen freshen and revive;
And thus the heart, most sear'd to human pleasure,
Melts at the tear, joys in the smile, of woman.
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