He told the heroine that he had read in the stars that happiness has
only one key, and that its name is 'Love,' that, amidst all the
mutabilities and disillusions of our life, the pure love of a man and
woman alone stands firm and beautiful, alone defies change and
disappointment; that it is the heaven-sent salve for all our troubles,
the remedy for our mistakes, the magic glass reflecting only what is
true and good. But in the end her facts overcame his theories, and he
might have spared himself the trouble of telling. And, for all his
star-gazing, this hero had no real philosophy, but in his grief and
unresting pain went and threw himself into the biggest pitfalls that
he could find, and would have perished there, had not a good angel
come and dragged him out again and brushed the mud off his clothes,
and, taking him by the hand, led him along a safer path. And so for
awhile he drops out of the story, which says that, when he is not
thinking of the lost heroine, he is perhaps happier than he deserves
to be.
"Now, Arthur, I think that this foolish hero was right, and the
sensible heroine he worshipped so blindly, wrong.
Pages:
798
799
800
801
802
803
804
805
806
807
808
809
810
811
812
813
814
815
816
817
818
819
820
821
822