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"It is a free gift, and we have no claim upon it; we must take it on the terms of the giver." From that they came to religion. Thyrsis loved the forms of the old faiths, because of the poetry there was in them; and so he wrestled with Corydon's paganism.
She could not endure this suspense; she could not endure these interruptions by other people. The doctor came and sat by her. "I must see what is the matter here," he said. "Why do you not get well, Corydon?" He questioned her carefully and looked grave. "I must have a consultation at once," he said. Corydon's hand caught at his sleeve. "No, no!" she whispered. "Don't be afraid," said the doctor.
He was only an assistant; and were not assistants notoriously careless? Why had the great surgeon himself not come to see to it? "How does she bear it?" he said, to the nurse; and he took off his overcoat and coat, and rolled up his sleeves, while she reported progress. Then he felt Corydon's pulse, and after washing his hands, made another examination.
For the doctor had warned them that Corydon must have plenty of "good nourishing food"; and this warning was backed up by all her women acquaintances and also by Corydon's own inner voices. The appetite that she developed was appalling to them not only as to quantity but as to quality.
In the leisure-class regime, the woman is a cherished possession for it is through her that the ability to waste both time and goods can best be shown. So came Veblen's grim and ironic exposition of the leisure-class woman, an exposition which Corydon found almost too painful to be read. For Corydon's ancestors, as far back as documents could trace, had been members of that class.
And the time came when he could endure it no more; something rose up within him, something tremendous and terrible, and he laid hold of Delia Gordon's soul to wrestle with it, as never before had he wrestled with any human soul except Corydon's. The truth of the matter was that Thyrsis loved the religious people; it was among them that he had been brought up, and their ways were his ways.
But alas, it seemed with them that strokes of calamity always followed upon strokes of good fortune. At this time Corydon's ailments became acute, and her nervous crises were no longer to be borne. There were anxious consultations on the subject, and finally it was decided that she should consult another "specialist". This was an uncle of Mr.
The prisoner then proceeded to argue that there was nothing to show that the vessel which had appeared in Sligo harbour was the same with that which had appeared off Dungarvan, except the testimony of the informer, Buckley, of which there was no corroboration. He also denied the truth of Corydon's evidence, in several particulars, and then went on to say
It was one of Corydon's peculiarities that she abhorred old ladies; and this one questioned her about the feeding of infants and told her that she was ill-equipped for the responsibilities of motherhood! On her way home she poured out her bitterness to Thyrsis. "I can see exactly how it is," she said. "They all think you've married a pretty face!"
Once it was too much even for him her cries had become incessant, and he nodded to the nurse, who took a bottle from the table, and wetting a cloth with it, held it to Corydon's face.
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