He went out and battled with the pitiless
storm, a fiercer storm beating within his breast than that which raged
without. The crazy words he had just uttered were not spoken simply to
stop the idle talk of his companions; they were the ultimate
expression of the thoughts over which he had brooded for days past.
Helene was dead to him, and her mocking ghost haunted the desolate
chambers of his heart, filling them with scornful laughter. But now
upon the door of this wretched habitation had timidly knocked another
guest--a guest of blooming and throbbing flesh and blood. Should he
deny her admittance? Unlearned was she as one of the shy birds of the
forest, but then she was eminently teachable. If his love for her
could not be called a liberal education was it not something better?
Was it not a liberal and lasting joy? After all, what did women know,
any way? A few miserable half-learned accomplishments, the aggregate
of which did not amount to so much as the eagle's feather on the proud
little head of his darling. Yes, he dared to say it--his darling! He
pictured her in winter as sitting by his side, before the fire, the
delicate head of his pet dog encircled by her arm; in summer they
would roam in blest content together through the endless forests of
this beautiful new world.
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