not even know that this special mountain _is_ in Darien,
though I consider it so; I consider it so. The picture, William, is a
symbolical one--to me. It represents--a--Woman."

"Woman!" repeated Jaquith, puzzled.

"Woman!" said Mr. Homer. His mild face flushed; he cleared his throat
nervously, and opened and shut his mouth several times.

"I pay to-day, as I have told you, my young friend, a tribute to one
admirable woman; but the Peak in Darien symbolizes--a--Woman, in
general. Without Woman, sir, what, or where, should we be? Until we
attain a knowledge of--a--Woman, through the medium of the--a--Passion
(I speak of it with reverence!), what, or where are we? We journey over
arid plains, we flounder in treacherous quagmires. Suddenly looms before
us, clear against the sky, as here represented, the Peak in
Darien--Woman! Guided by the--a--Passion (I speak of its lofty phases,
sir, its lofty phases!), we scale those crystal heights. It may be in
fancy only; it may be that circumstances over which we have no control
forbid our ever setting an actual foot on even the bases of the Peak;
but this is a case in which fancy is superior to fact. In fancy, we
scale those heights; and--and we stare at the Pacific, sir, and look at
each other with a wild surmise--silent, sir, silent, upon a Peak in
Darien!"

Mr. Homer said no more, but stood gazing at his picture, rapt in
contemplation. Jaquith was silent, too, watching him, half in amusement,
half--or more than half--in something not unlike reverence. Mr. Homer
was not an imposing figure: his back was long, his legs were short, his
hair and nose were distinctly absurd; but now, the homely face seemed
transfigured, irradiated by an inward glow of feeling.

Jaquith recalled Mrs. Tree's words. Had this quaint little gentleman
really been in love with his beautiful mother? Poor Mr. Homer! It was
very funny, but it was pathetic, too. Poor Mr. Homer!

The young man's thoughts ran on swiftly. The Peak in Darien! Well, that
was all true. Only, how if--unconsciously he spoke aloud, his eyes on
the picture--"How if a man were misled for a time by--I shall have to
mix my metaphors, Mr. Homer--by a will-o'-the-wisp, and fell into the
quagmire, and lost sight of his mountain for a time, only to find it
again, more lovely than--would he have any right to--what was it you
said, sir?--to try once more to scale those crystal heights?"

"Undoubtedly he would!" said Mr. Homer Hollopeter. "Un