We only know how much we are indebted to
training and education when we find out to what extent the natural eye
is blind."
This remark did not seem to interest her. He felt that it jarred
somehow, and that she was wishing him away.
"But why," he asked, "should angels paint a marriage? They neither
marry----" He stopped, feeling that she might think him flippant if he
quoted the text.
"Because it is the best thing to paint," she said.
"How the best?"
"Well, just the best human thing: everyone knows that."
"Has her marriage been so gloriously happy?" said Caius to himself as
the soft assurance of her tones reached his ears, and for some reason or
other he felt desolate, as a soul might upon whom the door of paradise
swung shut. Then irritably he said: "_I_ don't know it. Most marriages
seem to me----" He stopped, but she had understood.
"But if this picture crumbles to pieces, that does not alter the fact
that the angels made it lovely." (Her slight accent, because it made the
pronunciation of each word more careful, gave her speech a quaint
suggestion of instruction that perhaps she did not intend.) "The idea is
painted on our hearts in just the same way; it is the best thing we can
think of, except God."
"Yet," urged Caius, "even if it is the best from our point of view, you
will allow that it is written that it is not a heavenly institution.
Pages:
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199