?

Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

remnants of august

a queer notion of grant allen's came into my head, and amused me. if each generation die and leave ghosts, he argued, the world at last will get overcrowded with them. on that theory they would have grown innumerable some eight hundred thousand years hence, and it was no great wonder to see four at once. but the jest was unsatisfying, and i was thinking of these figures all the morning, until weena's rescue drove them out of my head. i associated them in some indefinite way with the white animal i had startled in my first passionate search for the time machine.

"forgive me," he said, interrupting the action. "i am trying to offend you in order to save myself from falling in love with you, and i have not the heart to let myself succeed. on your life, do not listen to me or believe me. i have no right to say these things to you. some fiend enters into me when i am at your side. you should wear a veil, agatha."

he prayed to that nameless thing outside, of which the rocks and the sand, the spiked cactus and the ragged lava, the endless waste, with its vast star-fired mantle, were but atoms. he prayed for mercy to a woman--for happiness to her child. both mother and daughter were close to him then. time and distance were annihilated. he had faith--he saw into the future. the fateful threads of the past, so inextricably woven with his error, wound out their tragic length here in this forlorn desert.

"it's time i learned to prepare my own bath." i was knitting complacently. but gertrude got up and put her arms around liddy's shaking shoulders.

"you are two big babies," she said soothingly. "neither one of you could get along for an hour without the other. so stop quarreling and be good. liddy, go right up and lay out aunty's night things. she is going to bed early."

there was a couple of armed sentinels squatting at my door. i could only suppose the trouble about uma must have come to a head, and the station been seized. for aught i could think, uma was taken up already, and these armed men were waiting to do the like with me.

however, as i came nearer, which i did at top speed, i saw there was a third native sitting on the verandah like a guest, and uma was talking with him like a hostess. nearer still i made out it was the big young chief, maea, and that he was smiling away and smoking. and what was he smoking?

from that moment he is plainly in the toils of his obscure and touching destiny. there is no doubt after this of what happened to him. all is certain now: mrs. smith's intense terror; amy foster's stolid conviction held against the other's nervous attack, that the man 'meant no harm'; smith's exasperation (on his return from darnford market) at finding the dog barking himself into a fit, the back-door locked, his wife in hysterics; and all for an unfortunate dirty tramp, supposed to be even then lurking in his stackyard. was he? he would
teach him to frighten women.


if there is one moment in a man's life when his interest for the world at large pales before the engrossing character of his own emotions, it is assuredly when that man first falls in love. then, if never before, the world within excludes the world without. for of all our human passions none is so isolating as the tenderest.
shut that one other being in, we must of necessity shut all the rest of mankind out; and we do so with a reckless trust in our own self-sufficiency which has about it a touch of the sublime. the other millions are as though they were not, and we two are alone in the earth, which suddenly seems to have grown unprecedentedly beautiful. indeed, it only needs such judicious depopulation to make of any spot an eden. perhaps the early jewish myth-makers had some such thought in mind when they wrote their idyl of the cosmogony. the human traits are true to-day. then at last our souls throw aside their conventional wrappings to stand revealed as they really are. certain of comprehension, the thoughts we have never dared breathe to any one before, find a tongue for her who seems fore-destined to understand. the long-closed floodgates of feeling are thrown wide, and our personality, pent up from the time of its inception for very mistrust, sweeps forth in one uncontrollable rush. for then the most reticent becomes confiding; the most self-contained expands. then every detail of our past lives assumes an importance which even we had not divined. to her we tell them all,--our boyish beliefs, our youthful fancies, the foolish with the fine, the witty with the wise, the little with the great. nothing then seems quite unworthy, as nothing seems quite worthy enough. flowers and weeds that we plucked upon our pathway, we heap them in her lap, certain that even the poorest will not be tossed aside. small wonder that we bring as many as we may when she bends her head so lovingly to each. as our past rises in reminiscence with all its oldtime reality, no less clearly does our future stand out to us in mirage. what we would be seems as realizable as what we were. seen by another beside ourselves, our castles in the air take on something of the substance of stereoscopic sight. our airiest fancies seem solid facts for their reality to her, and gilded by lovelight, they glitter and sparkle like a true palace of the east. for once all is possible; nothing lies beyond our reach. and as we talk, and she istens, we two seem to be floating off into an empyrean of our own like the summer clouds above our heads, as they sail dreamily on into the far-away depths of the unfathomable sky. it would be more than mortal not to believe in ourselves when another believes so absolutely in us. our most secret thoughts are no longer things to be ashamed of, for she has sanctioned them. whatever doubt may have shadowed us as to our own imaginings disappears before the smile of her appreciation. that her appreciation may be prejudiced is not a possibility we think of then. she understands us, or seems to do so to our own better understanding of ourselves. happy the man who is thus understood! happy even he who imagines that he is, because of her eager wish to comprehend; fortunate, indeed, if in this one respect he never comes to see too clearly.

the card on the right represents manifestation - the real work involved in completing the project, and the form it will take upon culmination. this is the painting or touch of the undertaking. sun: being illuminated by imagination and inspiration. liberation from old patterns. realization of your personal goals. radiating joy, finding delight in life. a feeling of returning to the source. angels on your shoulders. things flowing smoothly. dawning consciousness. cutting away from the past. feeling welcomed and at ease.

Profile

blue legacy
jones_casey
cleaning up so well

Latest Month

December 2017
S M T W T F S
     12
3456789
10111213141516
17181920212223
24252627282930
31      

Tags

Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by Witold Riedel