to。 When I colour； and when I shade before Miss Oliver； I do not pity myself。 I scorn the weakness。 I know it is ignoble： a mere fever of the flesh： not； I declare； the convulsion of the soul。 That is just as fixed as a rock； firm set in the depths of a restless sea。 Know me to be what I am—a cold hard man。”
I smiled incredulously。
“You have taken my confidence by storm；” he continued； “and now it is much at your service。 I am simply； in my original state— stripped of that blood…bleached robe with which Christianity covers human deformity—a cold； hard； ambitious man。 Natural affection only； of all the sentiments； has permanent power over me。 Reason； and not feeling； is my guide； my ambition is unlimited： my desire to rise higher； to do more than others； insatiable。 I honour endurance； perseverance； industry； talent； because these are the means by which men achieve great ends and mount to lofty eminence。 I watch your career with interest； because I consider you a specimen of a diligent； orderly； energetic woman： not because I deeply passionate what you have gone through； or what you still suffer。”
“You would describe yourself as a mere pagan philosopher；” I said。
“No。 There is this difference between me and deistic philosophers： I believe； and I believe the Gospel。 You missed your epithet。 I am not a pagan； but a Christian philosopher—a follower of the sect of Jesus。 As His disciple I adopt His pure； His merciful； His benignant doctrines。 I advocate them： I am sworn to spread them。 Won in youth to religion； she has cultivated my original qualities thus：… From the minute germ； natural affection； she has developed the overshadowing tree； philanthropy。 From the wild stringy root of human uprightness； she has reared a due sense of the Divine just