In my bedroom the next morning there was a sad and heavy heart. The
owner woke up, stared at the ceiling, then at the sun-baked bricks
beyond his window. He saw not the glory of the sun and the heavens.
To his eyes there was nothing poetic in the flash of the distant
church-spires against the billowy cloudbanks. The gray doves, circling
about the chimneys, did not inspire him, nor the twittering of the
sparrows on the window ledge. There was nothing at all in the world
but a long stretch of barren, lonely years. And he wondered how,
without her at his side, he ever could traverse them. He was driftwood
again. He had built upon sands as usual, and the tide had come in; his
castle was flotsam and jetsam. He was drifting, and he didn't care
where. He was very sorry for himself, and he had the blue devils the
worst kind of way. Finally he crawled out of bed and dressed because
it had to be done. He was not particularly painstaking with the
procedure. It mattered not what collar became him best, and he picked
up a tie at random. A man generally dresses for a certain woman's
approval, and when that is no longer to be gained he grows indifferent.
The other women do not count.
My breakfast consisted of a cup of coffee; and as the generous nectar
warmed my veins my thoughts took a philosophical turn. It is fate who
writes the was, the is, and the shall be. We have a proverb for every
joy and misfortune. It is the only consolation fate gives us. It is
like a conqueror asking the vanquished to witness the looting. All
roads lead to Rome, and all proverbs are merely sign posts by which we
pursue our destinies. And how was I to get to Rome? I knew not. Hope
is better than clairvoyance.
Was Phyllis right when she said that I did not truly love her? I
believed not. Should I go on loving her all my life? Undoubtedly I
should. As to affinities, I had met mine, but it had proved a
one-sided affair.
It was after ten by the clock when I remembered that I was to meet the
lawyer, the arbiter of my new fortunes. Money is a balm for most
things, and coupled with travel it might lead me to forget.
He was the family lawyer, and he had come all the way North to see that
I received my uncle's bequest. He was bent, gray and partially bald.
He must have been close to seventy, but for all that there was a
youthful twinkle in his eyes as he took my card and looked up into my
face.