who floats awe-struck under beetling precipices, through the dark

and turbid waters--seeing in the distance yet stranger and ruder

shapes, towards which he is irresistibly impelled. What would

become of us? O for some Delphic oracle, or Pythian maid, to utter

the secrets of futurity! O for some Oedipus to solve the riddle of

the cruel Sphynx! Such Oedipus was I to be--not divining a word's juggle,

but whose agonizing pangs, and sorrow-tainted life were to be the engines,

wherewith to lay bare the secrets of destiny, and reveal the meaning of the

enigma, whose explanation closed the history of the human race.

Dim fancies, akin to these, haunted our minds, and instilled feelings not

unallied to pleasure, as we stood beside this silent tomb of nature, reared

by these lifeless mountains, above her living veins, choking her vital

principle. "Thus are we left," said Adrian, "two melancholy blasted trees,

where once a forest waved. We are left to mourn, and pine, and die. Yet

even now we have our duties, which we must string ourselves to fulfil: the

duty of bestowing pleasure where we can, and by force of love, irradiating

with rainbow hues the tempest of grief. Nor will I repine if in this

extremity we preserve what we now possess. Something tells me, Verney, that

we need no longer dread our cruel enemy, and I cling with delight to the

oracular voice. Though strange, it will be sweet to mark the growth of your

little boy, and the development of Clara's young heart. In the midst of a

desert world, we are everything to them; and, if we live, it must be our

task to make this new mode of life happy to them. At present this is easy,

for their childish ideas do not wander into futurity, and the stinging

craving for sympathy, and all of love of which our nature is susceptible,

559

The Last Man