An
Englishman's stern duty to be a man at all costs was calling him at
last--bidding him in change of scene to try and overcome the paralysing
dominion of his grief. But as far as that went the experiment proved
futile. If moments came when circumstances did divert him, such as one or
two great storms he happened to come across, and one or two exciting
situations--still, when things were fair and peaceful, back would rush the
ever-living ache. That passionate void and loss for which there seems no
remedy.
Gentle, pleasant women longed to lavish worship upon him, and Paul talked
and was polite, but all their sweetness touched him no more than summer
ripples stir the bottom of a lake. He seemed impervious to any human
influence, though when the look of a mountain or the colour of beech-trees
would remind him of the Buergenstock anguish as fresh as ever stabbed his
heart. Yet all this while, unknown to himself, his faculties were
developing. He read deeply. He had unconsciously grown to apply his
darling's lucid reasoning to every detail of his judgment of life. It was
as if it had before been written in cypher for him, and she had now given
him the key. His mind was untiring in its efforts to master subjects, as
his splendid physique seemed tireless in all manner of sport.
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