Yet a hope had dawned on him with the dawning
of the full knowledge of his fall, of his fantastic self-deception. The
great love in this woman's eyes shone down into the abyss, shone from
that face pinched by starvation. There was Heaven in it. There was the
flame. Yes, he saw it now, not literally as in the past days, when its
mystery had plunged him in awe, when its presence had touched him with a
great fear, but imaginatively, as men see flames of help, and of faith,
and of purity, shining in the eyes of the good women they worship, with
the reverence of earth for the distant wonder of the sky. He saw it now
without fear, but with a passion of desire, a sharp consciousness of his
degradation, that swept over him like a storm. And even yet, in this new
knowledge, this rapture of awakening, he was still a bond slave, or
feared he was, to this stranger with the face of a friend, this enemy
with the presence of his former guardian angel. Only Cuckoo could save
him, he said to himself, if indeed the day of salvation were not long
ago past--only Cuckoo. For despite her many sins, the flame shone in her
eyes. And where the flame shone there alone was even the shadow of help,
a shadow within the shadow of those eyes.
Pages:
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741
742
743
744
745