Death -- Fiction; Forgiveness -- Fiction; Memory -- Fiction
How much easier was probably never guessed by those who simply knew there
were hours when he disappeared and for many of whom there was a vulgar
reading of what they used to call his plunges. These plunges were into
depths quieter than the deep sea-caves, and the habit had at the end of a
year or two become the one it would have cost him most to relinquish.
Now they had really, his Dead, something that was indefensibly theirs;
and he liked to think that they might in cases be the Dead of others, as
well as that the Dead of others might be invoked there under the
protection of what he had done. Whoever bent a knee on the carpet he had
laid down appeared to him to act in the spirit of his intention. Each of
his lights had a name for him, and from time to time a new light was
kindled. This was what he had fundamentally agreed for, that there
should always be room for them all. What those who passed or lingered
saw was simply the most resplendent of the altars called suddenly into
vivid usefulness, with a quiet elderly man, for whom it evidently had a
fascination, often seated there in a maze or a doze; but half the
satisfaction of the spot for this mysterious and fitful worshipper was
that he found the years of his life there, and the ties, the affections,
the struggles, the submissions, the conquests, if there had been such, a
record of that adventurous journey in which the beginnings and the
endings of human relations are the lettered mile-stones. He had in
general little taste for the past as a part of his own history; at other
times and in other places it mostly seemed to him pitiful to consider and
impossible to repair; but on these occasions he accepted it with
something of that positive gladness with which one adjusts one’s self to
an ache that begins to succumb to treatment. To the treatment of time
the malady of life begins at a given moment to succumb; and these were
doubtless the hours at which that truth most came home to him. The day
was written for him there on which he had first become acquainted with
death, and the successive phases of the acquaintance were marked each
with a flame.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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