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Updated: June 7, 2025
No; so long as the poets are under the inspiration of the Muses, they speak truth: but once let those Goddesses leave them to their own devices, and they make blunders and contradict themselves. Nor can we blame them: they are but men; how should they know truth, when the divinity whose mouthpieces they were is departed from them? Cyn. That point is settled, then.
Sally's father having been a major in the war, and the Rendalls are good stock. Let me see what's her name? Her mother was called Letty." "Cynthia. She was named for my mother." Chilian's voice had a reverent softness in it. "I always thought it a pretty name," said Eunice. "And I've heard people call it 'Cyn. I do abominate nicknames." Elizabeth uttered this with a good deal of vigor.
Yet now I understand that you and your cord and your threats all depend from a mere cobweb. It seems to me Clotho should be the one to boast: she has you dangling from her distaff, like a sprat at the end of a fishing- line. Zeus. I do not catch the drift of your questions. Cyn. Come, I will speak my mind; and in the name of Destiny and the Fates take not my candour amiss.
Ann Walden was past any earthly worriment, and Sally Taber could not understand then, or ever, the soul-hurt little Cynthia had received. "It's good friends now and always, little Cyn?" "Yes, dear Cup-o'-Cold-Water Lady!" They stood by the dilapidated gate. "And you will come often to Trouble Neck?" "Right often." "And you are not afraid? Remember I have a care over you." "I am not afraid."
"Do you-all want to buy eight quarts of wild strawberries?" he asked in that low fine voice of his. "Buy?" demanded Lily Ivy scornfully. "Miss Cyn, honey, go fotch Miss Ann and tell her one ob dem Morleys is here axing us-all to buy his berries, and him in shreds and tatters!" Presently Cynthia returned with her aunt.
It is not proper, Cyniscus, that you should know all. But what made you ask me about the Fates? Cyn. Ah, you must tell me one thing more first. Do the Fates also control you Gods? Do you depend from their thread? Zeus. We do. Why do you smile? Cyn. I was thinking of that bit in Homer, where he makes you address the Gods in council, and threaten to suspend all the world from a golden cord.
She was smiling and calm. "I came back," she said confidingly, "to tell you something. I've worked it out myself." "Yes, dear;" the girl's face struck Marcia strangely. A new expression rested upon it. "I'm not going to suffer any more." "Why, little Cyn?" "No. No more! It hurts and hurts and then you get over it, and go on just the same. I'm not going to suffer!"
I say nothing of our own days, in which villains and money-grubbers prosper, and honest men are oppressed with want and sickness and a thousand distresses, and can hardly call their souls their own. Zeus. Surely you know, Cyniscus, what punishments await the evil-doers after death, and how happy will be the lot of the righteous? Cyn. Ah, to be sure: Hades Tityus Tantalus.
But you may well despise me: why do I sit here listening to all this, with my thunder-bolt beneath my arm? Cyn. Nay, smite, if the thunder-bolt is my destiny. I shall think none the worse of you; I shall know it is all Clotho's doing; I will not even blame the bolt that wounds me.
While she was at the store an hour before to buy a few necessary articles of food with the pitiful supply of money she had found in an old teapot on the kitchen shelf, a wonderful thing had occurred. Tod Greeley, weighing out some tea, remarked casually: "I reckon, now I think o' it, Miss Cyn, there's a letter come for you. One for you and one for Mr. Morley." "A letter!" Cynthia almost staggered.
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