It was like morning sunshine only to see his face.

No morbid follies had ever tainted his healthy nature, whatsoever romance was there--and never was there a thoroughly noble nature without some romance in it.

But it lay deep down, calm and unawakened.

His heart was as light and free as air.
Stooping over my easy chair, he wheeled it to the window, in sight of the pleasant view.
"Now, Phineas, what more books do you want?
You'll take a walk before dinner?
You'll not be moping ?" No; why should I, who knew I had always, whether absent or present, the blessing, the infinite blessing, of being first in his thoughts and cares?
Who, whether he expressed it or not--the best things never are expressed or expressible--knew by a thousand little daily acts like these, the depth and tenderness of his friendship, his brotherly love for me.

As yet, I had it all.