Perhaps this peerless creature by some magical process of
development might yet meet and satisfy his intellectual demands. She
had already the soul of an angel--yes, and the beauty of an angel. And
yet he was not satisfied.
It was this haunting dissatisfaction that kept him a prisoner in his
room, one brilliant afternoon, when the fresh world without seemed too
insupportable a mockery of his jaded and cynical state of mind. He
stepped out upon the little balcony that ran under the windows of his
own and his sister's apartments, and looked with a sore heart upon the
eternal miracle of earth and sky. He sank heavily down upon a low
seat, feeling very old and worn. If the back is fitted to the burden,
it occurred to him that the painful process of adjustment would have
to be continued through an interminable period of years. Perhaps it is
only the stiff, bent shoulders of age that are really fitted to bear
the burdens that impetuous youth find unendurably irksome.
While he sat in utter silence, thrilled occasionally with shrill sweet
bursts of irrepressible bird song, and inwardly tortured by the
hateful whisperings of doubt, remorse and despair, the door of his
sister's apartment was opened, and a murmur of voices told him that
Rose and Helene had returned together from an afternoon drive.
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