For him, a mood only, passing with a smile and a
sigh. To that he was not equal; these heights heroic were not for
his treading. Too insistent were the flesh and blood that composed
his earthly being.
He must renounce the best of himself, step consciously to a lower
level. Only let it not prove sheer degradation.
In all his struggling against the misery of loss, one thought never
tempted him. Never for a fleeting instant did he doubt that his
highest love was at the same time highest reason. Men woefully
deceive themselves, yearning for women whose image in their minds is
a mere illusion, women who scarce for a day could bring them
happiness, and whose companionship through life would become a
curse. Be it so; Piers knew it, dwelt upon it as a perilous fact; it
had no application to his love for Irene Derwent. Indeed, Piers was
rich in that least common form of intelligence--the intelligence
of the heart. Emotional perspicacity, the power of recognising
through all forms of desire one's true affinity in the other sex, is
bestowed upon one mortal in a vast multitude. Not lack of
opportunity alone accounts for the failure of men and women to mate
becomingly; only the elect have eyes to see, even where the field of
choice is freely opened to them. But Piers Otway saw and knew, once
and for ever. He had the genius of love: where he could not observe,
divination came to his help.
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