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His manner of telling a story, or explaining his
thoughts, was forcible, perspicuous, and original: his style in
conversation had an uncommon zest. Every thing he had to relate
delighted me; while, in return, my sympathy, my eager curiosity, and my
unsophisticated passions, rendered me to Mr. Forester a most desirable
hearer. It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that every day rendered
our intercourse more intimate and cordial.
Mr. Falkland was destined to be for ever unhappy; and it seemed as if no
new incident could occur, from which he was not able to extract food for
this imperious propensity. He was wearied with a perpetual repetition of
similar impressions; and entertained an invincible disgust against all
that was new. The visit of Mr. Forester he regarded with antipathy. He
was scarcely able to look at him without shuddering; an emotion which
his guest perceived, and pitied as the result of habit and disease,
rather than of judgment. None of his actions passed unremarked; the most
indifferent excited uneasiness and apprehension.


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