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Updated: May 3, 2025
She had deceived her mother a long time about him simply by saying nothing. Was this some untoward trick of fate's, merely devised to harm him? Surely not. And yet Suzanne's headstrong determination seemed almost a fatal mistake now. He sat down brooding over it. Was this a terrific blunder? Would he be sorry? All his life was in the balance. Should he turn back? No! No! No! Never!
He hesitated again on the brink of speech, before, with a toss of his leonine head as if he were veritably leaving fate's affairs to fate, he turned to go; and Jack mechanically touched P.D.'s rein, while he gazed toward the pass.
As they walked along, all Laura's thoughts were about the lover waiting for her; but Mr. and Mrs. Graham could not get rid of that slight sense of inward discomfort stirred afresh by Mrs. Bradford's first remark which many middle-aged people experience as a result of Fate's ruthlessly quick forcing of new wine into old bottles.
Then shall death appear before him in an altered guise; no longer as a doom peculiar to himself, whether fate's crowning injustice or his own last vengeance upon those who fail to value him; but now as a power that wounds him far more tenderly, not without solemn compensations, taking and giving, bereaving and yet storing up.
And yet, oddly, she could not but be aware that both Mrs Basil and Maisie Maidan were nice women. The curious, discounting eye which one woman can turn on another did not prevent her seeing that Mrs Basil was very good to Edward and Mrs Maidan very good for him. That seemed her to be a monstrous and incomprehensible working of Fate's. Incomprehensible!
Were not this nobler than by overmuch wisdom to incur the taunt, propter vitam vivendi perdere causas, or that cast by Dante at him who to fate's summons returned "the great refusal," a Dio spiacenti ed a'nemici sui, "hateful to God and to the enemies of God"? The nations of the earth ponder our action at this crisis, and by our vacillation or resolution they are uplifted or dejected; whilst, in their invisible abodes, the spirits of the dead of our race are in suspense till the hazard be made and the glorious meed be secured, in triumph or defeat, to eternity.
Clickety-Click-Click-Clack, faster than any human mind could think, faster than any human hand could finger, hurtling up hazardous hills of thought, sliding down facile valleys of fancy, roaring with emphasis, shrieking with punctuation, the great car yielded itself perforce to Fate's dictation.
For my own choice, I would crave the Vicar's pardon, would compound with destiny, and, taking the proportion of fate's gifts already dealt to me in lieu of all, would go in peace to humbler doings, beneath the dignity of dark prophecy, but more fit to give a man quiet days and comfort in his life.
And being a man who spoke only when he must, who dreaded the expression of any emotion, and who foolishly thought that actions speak louder than words, he had omitted to tell her daily or even weekly or monthly that he loved her; and she had died pitying herself and reproaching him. Fate's old, old game of Cross Purposes.
"Mysterious Rhymer, doomed by fate's decree Still to revisit Eildon's fated tree, Where oft the swain, at dawn of Hallow-day, Hears thy fleet barb with wild impatience neigh, Say, who is he, with summons long and high, Shall bid the charmed sleep of ages fly, Roll the long sound through Eildon's caverns vast, While each dark warrior kindles at the blast, The horn, the falchion, grasp with mighty hand, And peal proud Arthur's march from Fairy-land?"
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