er tremulous
breath and catch the fragrance of her face, which, in the moonlight,
seemed as white and delicate as a cloud. The knowledge that she belonged
to him at last entered into his heart, his blood, his brain, his
thoughts, became the very life within his life--an element which was
neither wholly love nor wholly passion, but a necessity from which he
could not depart and without which he would cease to be. All men need to
have near them, allied in close association with them, either a force to
strengthen their weakness or else a weakness which insists upon some
demonstration of their strength. In conceivable circumstances it might
be a duty to dissever such a bond; it might be a duty to die of
starvation rather than steal a loaf, and, as death would ultimately
quench the craving stomach, so a broken soul, in time, would cease
lamenting for its maimed energy. Let heart-sickness pass beyond a
certain bitter-point and the heart loses its life for ever. Had Robert's
marriage been impossible, had he decided, on that account, to go away
from Brigit's influence, had he vowed, in some paroxysm of despair, to
see her no more, to pluck out his eye--to forget her--what would have
happened? Would he have been able to say to himself at the end of three
years, seven years, nine years, "I did my duty. I have my reward"? Is it
so easy even to acquiesce in the great bereavements caused naturally,
against our will, by death? Does one ever, in the hidden depths of the
mind, mistake the cinders of a consumed anguish for the stars of peace?
A man need not be a prophet in order to foresee the effect of certain
measures on his own character. Indeed, if self-knowledge be not regarded
as a sentinel to the judgment, its laborious acquisition would be worth
the travail of no honest will. Gained, it remains like an interdict upon
all undertakings, projects, ambitions, setting forth clearly all that
one may, or may not, attempt in common life, and, above all, in
heroism--heroism understood truly, not the false ideals of idle, untaxed
sentiment. Robert shrank from examining the sharpest nail of the several
which had been piercing his heart for weeks--from the day when he had
first received the news of Parflete's death. Had he not often suspected,
until then, that, for some reason, he had been called to renounce the
hope of marriage? True, he had never been certain of this, and,
certainly, the chain of events, even considered without prejudice,