DOI article:
Mackenzie, T.: The secret
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.38746#0238
The Secret
234
you, and so annihilate the rigid negation of your obstinate self-
control. Have you no compassion for us poor humanity, with
our infinite capacity for needing, that you should sur-taunt us with
that inexorable look of denial ? You glory in your power, there
is satisfaction about your lips, and you hold the casket lightly to
show that it is hopelessly beyond our reach. Indeed, it seems to
me at times, that you are offering the little bronze treasure to the
world at large, saying :
“ Here, take my Secret ! ” knowing that you but invite in order
to refuse.
I wonder did you ever live on earth ? Sometimes you seem to
me to be a worldly little person, made to drive a man distracted
for the want of you. It gives you more satisfaction to say No
than Yes ; your baby mouth may be willing and weak, yet your
eyes are always stern, and see too far to care for what is near.
Who once gained your soul, however, would gain it for all
eternity. Steadfast is the watchword of that soul, union or
purpose, oneness of design, truth absolute are its attributes.
I like to sit here beside you, while the dim light of London day
suggests the neutral hue of dusky hair that might be brown and
shadowed eyes that might be blue, and fancy that once you were
a living girl, an artist’s model, and, had you lived, might still be
in the fulness of sweet womanhood.
I am sure that you are dead. I like to fancy that you fulfilled
one duty to the artist and that then you died. Life could not
have wanted you longer, having made you what the picture on
my wall reflects. For all trivial purpose in the world, surely of
all maids you were most unfit. When I think of you as leading
the life of any girl whom fate has brought near my path, I can-
not but smile at the incongruity of the notion. That you lived
is, I grant, a fair thought, but that you should be and act as
other
234
you, and so annihilate the rigid negation of your obstinate self-
control. Have you no compassion for us poor humanity, with
our infinite capacity for needing, that you should sur-taunt us with
that inexorable look of denial ? You glory in your power, there
is satisfaction about your lips, and you hold the casket lightly to
show that it is hopelessly beyond our reach. Indeed, it seems to
me at times, that you are offering the little bronze treasure to the
world at large, saying :
“ Here, take my Secret ! ” knowing that you but invite in order
to refuse.
I wonder did you ever live on earth ? Sometimes you seem to
me to be a worldly little person, made to drive a man distracted
for the want of you. It gives you more satisfaction to say No
than Yes ; your baby mouth may be willing and weak, yet your
eyes are always stern, and see too far to care for what is near.
Who once gained your soul, however, would gain it for all
eternity. Steadfast is the watchword of that soul, union or
purpose, oneness of design, truth absolute are its attributes.
I like to sit here beside you, while the dim light of London day
suggests the neutral hue of dusky hair that might be brown and
shadowed eyes that might be blue, and fancy that once you were
a living girl, an artist’s model, and, had you lived, might still be
in the fulness of sweet womanhood.
I am sure that you are dead. I like to fancy that you fulfilled
one duty to the artist and that then you died. Life could not
have wanted you longer, having made you what the picture on
my wall reflects. For all trivial purpose in the world, surely of
all maids you were most unfit. When I think of you as leading
the life of any girl whom fate has brought near my path, I can-
not but smile at the incongruity of the notion. That you lived
is, I grant, a fair thought, but that you should be and act as
other