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Updated: June 14, 2025
Harding, that Thyrsis and the clergyman came round the side of the house, and discovered the child engaged in trying to drag a heavy arm-chair through a door that was too small for it. He was wrestling like a young titan, purple in the face with rage; and shouting, in a perfect reproduction of Henery's voice and accent, "Come round here, God damn you, come round here!"
"May I join you?" he asked, and she replied with a nod. Thyrsis moved beside her and took her arm in his. A moment later they came to a place where the road was dark, and he put his arm about her waist; she made no resistance. "I I've seen you often before," she said. "Yes," he replied, "I have seen you." And he suddenly remembered a remark that he had heard about her.
What are you a man for?" "But she's all right as she is " "Isn't she nervous?" "Why, yes perhaps " "Isn't she sometimes melancholy? And doesn't she like you to kiss her? Doesn't she show she's happy when you hold her in your arms." Thyrsis sat mute. "You see!" said the other, laughing. "The girl is in love with you, and you haven't sense enough to know it." Again Thyrsis could find no words.
So Macklin subsided; and Thyrsis learned afterwards that his remark was going the rounds, being considered to be a mot. It appeared the next week in the columns of a paper devoted to "society" gossip; and many a literary reputation had been made by a lesser triumph than that.
But he was generous and free-hearted, a slave to his impulses of friendship. And this was what made the struggle such a cruel one to Thyrsis; it was like the sight of some noble animal basely snared. From his earliest days the boy had watched these forces working themselves out.
Above were the heights where Thyrsis dwelt, inaccessible, almost invisible; and how many years must she toil to reach them! She would come to him with tears in her eyes tears of shame for her ignorance and her stupidity. And then Thyrsis would kiss the tears away, and tell her how many brilliant and clever women he had met, who had the souls of dolls behind all their display of culture.
So came another day's hunting; and at sundown another watch by a runway; and another deer, that approached from the wrong direction, and came upon a man, worn out by three days and nights of effort, lying sound asleep at his post! But there could be only one ending to this adventure. Thyrsis was out for a deer, and he would never quit until he got one.
Archdeacon Hare having given a somewhat coldly correct account of Sterling as a clergyman, Carlyle three years later, in 1851, published his own impressions of his friend as a thinker, sane philanthropist, and devotee of truth, in a work that, written in a three months' fervour, has some claim to rank, though faltering, as prose after verse, with Adonais, In Memoriam, and Matthew Arnold's Thyrsis.
After these things, Thyrsis would go at his book again. He would go at it doggedly, desperately. He had scarcely taken time to get settled in the tent and to get their housekeeping regime under way, before he had heard the call of the book and wandered away to wrestle with it.
There is nothing in life but you, and to suddenly acquire a new self is most startling, and something hard to believe. Thyrsis, I simply cannot realize that I may go to you and find peace and security. MY DEAREST CORYDON: I have just a few words to say. I have two weeks left in which to shake off my shoulders the fearful animal that has been tearing me.
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