Читать книгу Charles Peace, or The Adventures of a Notorious Burglar онлайн

483 страница из 895

His long bony fingers are busily occupied in reaching ever and anon some ponderous volume, the pages of which he scans with a curious and absorbing interest.

This old man is Lord Ethalwood, who, despite his years and the sorrow they have brought, is still firm and vigorous—​still full of active intellectual life.

He is a philosopher—​a searcher after truth—​a solitary and silent worker in his old ancestral home.

To him the wonders revealed by scientific research have been a solace and a comfort in the hours of his affliction.

He has pursued his studies with unwearying industry; has never relaxed, but has worked as hard—​and, indeed, harder, perhaps—​than many men whose means of existence depended upon their own exertions.

There is good reason for this: the recluse at Broxbridge needed some occupation to drive away the miserable thoughts which at times took possession of him.

Without some such employment his life would have been one long sorrow.

He had made chemistry his study, he had also dipped deeply into the science of astrology, and when wearied of these he followed up his train of observations in astronomy.