Even in Scott,
Dickens, Thackeray, or Hawthorne, the sentiment of love
appears to me to be frequently done less justice to."
"You are expressing a very general opinion," said I.
"Is that so, indeed, sir?" he exclaimed, with
unmistakable excitement. "Is the book well known? and
who was GO-EATH? I am interested in that, because
upon the title-page the usual initials are omitted, and
it runs simply "by GO-EATH." Was he an author of
distinction? Has he written other works?"
Such was our first interview, the first of many; and in
all he showed the same attractive qualities and
defects. His taste for literature was native and
unaffected; his sentimentality, although extreme and a
thought ridiculous, was plainly genuine. I wondered at
my own innocent wonder. I knew that Homer nodded, that
Caesar had compiled a jest-book, that Turner lived by
preference the life of Puggy Booth, that Shelley made
paper boats, and Wordsworth wore green spectacles! and
with all this mass of evidence before me, I had
expected Bellairs to be entirely of one piece, subdued
to what he worked in, a spy all through.
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