United States or Morocco ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Just as this man's ideas are why, are Pellerin!" The thought uttered itself in a kind of inner shout, and Bernald started upright with the violent impact of his conclusion. Again and again in the last forty-eight hours he had exclaimed to himself: "This is as good as Pellerin." Why hadn't he said till now: "This is Pellerin"? ... Surprising as the answer was, he had no choice but to take it.
How far he was aware of the character ascribed to him it was impossible for Bernald to discover. He was as unconscious as a tree or a cloud, and his observer had never known any one so alive to human contacts and yet so secure from them.
"Well, writing. Some kind of writing." Doctor Bob always became vague and clumsy when he approached the confines of literature. "He means to take it up again as soon as his eyes get right." Bernald groaned. "Oh, Lord that finishes him; and me! He's looking for a publisher, of course he wants a 'favourable notice. I won't come!" "He hasn't written a line for twenty years." "A line of what?
Makes me feel like the fellows who think they're made of glass. The mitigating circumstance is that he seems to see such a glorious landscape through me." Wade grinned at the thought of serving such a purpose. "I see. I'll come on Sunday and be looked through!" Bernald cried. BERNALD came on two successive Sundays; and the second time he lingered till the Tuesday. "Here he comes!"
Why, that reminds me," Miss Fosdick broke off "I've never heard what became of your queer friend what was his name? whom you and Bob Wade accused me of spiriting away after that very lecture. And I've never seen you since you rushed into the house the next morning, and dragged me out of bed to know what I'd done with him!" With a sharp effort Bernald gathered himself together to have it out.
You see it's a ministry, Bernald I assure you, I look upon my calling quite religiously." As Bernald listened, his disappointment gradually changed to relief. Howland, on trial, always turned out to be too insufferable, and the pleasure of watching his antics was invariably lost in the impulse to put a sanguinary end to them.
When at length he had acquitted himself of this obligation, and was free to work his way back through the lessening groups into the drawing-room, he was at last rewarded by a glimpse of his friend, who, still densely encompassed, towered in the centre of the room in all his sovran ugliness. Their eyes met across the crowd; but Bernald gathered only perplexity from the encounter.
At the close of Howland Wade's discourse, Bernald, charged with his prodigious secret, had felt the need to escape for an instant from the liberated rush of talk. The interest of watching Pellerin was so perilously great that the watcher felt it might, at any moment, betray him. He lingered in the crowded drawing-room long enough to see his friend enclosed in a mounting tide, above which Mrs.
Bernald that what we need at this very minute is a Pellerin revival; and we need some one like you to whom his message comes as a wonderful new interpretation of life to lead the revival, and rouse us out of our apathy. ... And it's for that reason that I urged Mr.
The human revelation had for Bernald a poignant and ever-renewed interest, which his trade, as the dramatic critic of a daily paper, had hitherto failed to discourage. And he knew that Bob Wade, simple and undefiled by literature Bernald's specific affliction had a free and personal way of judging men, and the diviner's knack of reaching their hidden springs.
Word Of The Day