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It was a ghastly thing to the boy as he came to realize it this utter deadness and coldness of "the world". Thyrsis himself was all afire with love with love, not only for his vision and his art, but for all humanity, and for humanity's noblest dreams.
There was soft new moss underfoot, and one walked as if in a temple. Thyrsis pointed out a seat beside a deep bubbling pool. "Here's where I sit and write," he said. "And how comes the book?" asked Corydon. "Oh, I'm hammering at it that's the best I can say." "What is it?" "Why it's a story. I suppose it'll be called a romance, though I don't like the word." Corydon pondered for a moment.
Section 12. Thyrsis figured that the fatal document would reach Mr. Harding that afternoon; and the next morning in his anxiety he walked a mile or two to meet the mail-carrier on his way. Sure enough, there was a reply from the clergyman. He tore it open and read it swiftly: "I received your letter, and I hasten to answer. I cannot tell you the distress of mind which it has caused me.
It was amazing what loads of provisions a family of three could consume in the course of a week especially when one of them was following the "stuffing regime". There had to be a lot of figuring done to get it for the sum of thirty dollars a month; and this put another grievous burden upon Thyrsis.
And when the mood of it comes to me, then I work in a kind of frenzy that lasts for hours and even days; and if I give up in the middle and fall back, then I have to do it all over again. It's like toiling up a mountain-side." "I see," whispered Corydon. "And then, do you expect to have no human relationships as long as you live?" Thyrsis pondered for a moment. "Did you ever read Mrs.
It closed with this all-important sentence: "I will do what I can to help you, so come and let us talk it over." Thyrsis went; and as they sat in his study, Darrell put his arm about him, and told him a little of his own career.
Thyrsis, alas, had no dress-suit, and no valet to help him into it, but he sat on the edge of a big leather chair and proceeded to "throw a little Socialism" at his host. Then they went down stairs, and there were Morris and Hemingway, of the editorial staff, and "Buddie" Comings, most popular of novelists, and "Bob" Desmond, most famous of illustrators.
"Why, I don't know that there's anything to do, Thyrsis. What would there be?" "But are you going on being in love with him forever?" "I I don't see how I can tell, Thyrsis. Would it do any harm?" "It might grow on you," he said, with a slight smile. "It sometimes does." "Mr. Harding said we ought never to speak of it again," said she. "And I guess he's right about that.
But there was hope for her life, the doctors said; and they sent a telegram which Thyrsis got three days later, when he had fought his way to the town through five miles of heavy snow-drifts. Meantime the grim fight for life was going on. In the morning Corydon opened her eyes to a burning torture, the racked and twisted nerves quivering in rebellion.
She stood appalled at this thing which he had done; the truth being that his action had sprung from a certain deep conviction in him, which he never found courage to utter to her. Section 15. Thyrsis pledged his word that he would write no more to Mr. Harding; and so they settled down to wait for a reply. But a couple more days passed, and still there came nothing.
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