"
"Why do you call the opening verses a riddle?" said Charlie Lloyd.
"Because I fancy no one will ever guess what kind of a place it was--
This mountain island,
This saintly shrine, this fort--
I forget how it goes on."
"Oh, the description of the place is not bad," Charlie answered, after
reading it over again to himself. "It would do for the Mont St. Michael
in Normandy."
"Well, let that pass, then," said Ideala; "also the dear familiar
'subtle scents abroad upon the night.' But what does she mean by 'On
with rush and ring'?"
"She means the train, obviously."
"What an outlandish periphrasis! And how about
The rugged brows of those old rocks, storm-rent and hoary,
Are quivering in their grim surprise?"
"That is a 'pathetic fallacy.' She is not speaking of the things as
they were, but as they appeared to her excited fancy. She chronicles
her own death, though----"
"So did Moses," said Ideala. "If you really want to justify 'The
Passion of Delysle' I can help you. You see she was dreadfully badly
treated by her friends, poor thing! and her marriage after all was no
marriage, because she loved another man all the time; and your husband
isn't properly your husband if you don't love him, love being the only
possible sanctification--in fact, the only true marriage.
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