II
A few days later Sherman was hurrying through the town of Ballah.
A few days later Sherman was hurrying through the town of Ballah.
Yeats
To the westward
gannets were striking continually, and a porpoise showed now and then,
his fin and back gleaming in the sun. Sherman was more perfectly happy
than he had been for many a day, and more ardently thinking. All
nature seemed full of a Divine fulfilment. Everything fulfilled its
law--fulfilment that is peace, whether it be for good or for evil, for
evil also has its peace, the peace of the birds of prey. Sherman looked
from the sea to the ship and grew sad. Upon this thing, crawling slowly
along the sea, moved to and fro many mournful and slouching figures.
He looked from the ship to himself and his eyes filled with tears. On
himself, on these moving figures, hope and memory fed like flames.
Again his eyes gladdened, for he knew he had found his present. He
would live in his love and the day as it passed. He would live that
his law might be fulfilled. Now, was he sure of this truth--the saints
on the one hand, the animals on the other, live in the moment as it
passes. Thitherward had his days brought him. This was the one grain
they had ground. To grind one grain is sufficient for a lifetime.
II
A few days later Sherman was hurrying through the town of Ballah. It
was Saturday, and he passed down through the marketing country people,
and the old women with baskets of cakes and gooseberries and long
pieces of sugarstick shaped like walking-sticks, and called by children
'Peggie's leg. '
Now, as two months earlier, he was occasionally recognized and greeted,
and, as before, went on without knowing, his eyes full of unintelligent
sadness because the mind was making merry afar. They had the look we
see in the eyes of animals and dreamers. Everything had grown simple,
his problem had taken itself away. He was thinking what he would say
to Mary Carton. Now they would be married, they would live in a small
house with a green door and new thatch, and a row of beehives under
a hedge. He knew where just such a house stood empty. The day before
he and his mother had discussed, with their host of the Imperial
Hotel, this question of houses. They knew the peculiarities of every
house in the neighbourhood, except two or three built while they were
away. All day Sherman and his mother had gone over the merits of the
few they were told were empty. She wondered why her son had grown so
unpractical. Once he was so easily pleased--the row of beehives and the
new thatch did not for her settle the question. She set it all down to
Miss Leland and the plays, and the singing, and the belladonna, and
remembered with pleasure how many miles of uneasy water lay between the
town of Ballah and these things.
She did not know what else beside the row of beehives and the new
thatch her son's mind ran on as he walked among the marketing country
people, and the gooseberry sellers, and the merchants of 'Peggie's
leg,' and the boys playing marbles in odd corners, and the men in
waistcoats with flannel sleeves driving carts, and the women driving
donkeys with creels of turf or churns of milk. Just now she was trying
to remember whether she used to buy her wool for knitting at Miss
Peter's or from Mrs.
gannets were striking continually, and a porpoise showed now and then,
his fin and back gleaming in the sun. Sherman was more perfectly happy
than he had been for many a day, and more ardently thinking. All
nature seemed full of a Divine fulfilment. Everything fulfilled its
law--fulfilment that is peace, whether it be for good or for evil, for
evil also has its peace, the peace of the birds of prey. Sherman looked
from the sea to the ship and grew sad. Upon this thing, crawling slowly
along the sea, moved to and fro many mournful and slouching figures.
He looked from the ship to himself and his eyes filled with tears. On
himself, on these moving figures, hope and memory fed like flames.
Again his eyes gladdened, for he knew he had found his present. He
would live in his love and the day as it passed. He would live that
his law might be fulfilled. Now, was he sure of this truth--the saints
on the one hand, the animals on the other, live in the moment as it
passes. Thitherward had his days brought him. This was the one grain
they had ground. To grind one grain is sufficient for a lifetime.
II
A few days later Sherman was hurrying through the town of Ballah. It
was Saturday, and he passed down through the marketing country people,
and the old women with baskets of cakes and gooseberries and long
pieces of sugarstick shaped like walking-sticks, and called by children
'Peggie's leg. '
Now, as two months earlier, he was occasionally recognized and greeted,
and, as before, went on without knowing, his eyes full of unintelligent
sadness because the mind was making merry afar. They had the look we
see in the eyes of animals and dreamers. Everything had grown simple,
his problem had taken itself away. He was thinking what he would say
to Mary Carton. Now they would be married, they would live in a small
house with a green door and new thatch, and a row of beehives under
a hedge. He knew where just such a house stood empty. The day before
he and his mother had discussed, with their host of the Imperial
Hotel, this question of houses. They knew the peculiarities of every
house in the neighbourhood, except two or three built while they were
away. All day Sherman and his mother had gone over the merits of the
few they were told were empty. She wondered why her son had grown so
unpractical. Once he was so easily pleased--the row of beehives and the
new thatch did not for her settle the question. She set it all down to
Miss Leland and the plays, and the singing, and the belladonna, and
remembered with pleasure how many miles of uneasy water lay between the
town of Ballah and these things.
She did not know what else beside the row of beehives and the new
thatch her son's mind ran on as he walked among the marketing country
people, and the gooseberry sellers, and the merchants of 'Peggie's
leg,' and the boys playing marbles in odd corners, and the men in
waistcoats with flannel sleeves driving carts, and the women driving
donkeys with creels of turf or churns of milk. Just now she was trying
to remember whether she used to buy her wool for knitting at Miss
Peter's or from Mrs.
