e shutters of my brain
as well. In my mind, even as before my eyes, distances are lessened and
I see stretched before me that more or less illusive goal which we would
all fain reach in the desires of our finer selves.

This idea is soothing to me, for, in my eagerness to act, I am tired of
demanding from my reason reasons which it cannot vouchsafe me.

Is there anything definite amid the uncertainty of these blind efforts,
these unaccountable impulses, which have so often, ever since the first
awakening of my unconsciousness, urged me towards other women? What have
I wanted hitherto? What was it that I hoped when I stretched out my
hands to them, when I looked upon their lives, when I searched their
hearts, when at times I changed the very nature of their strivings? I
did not know then; and even now I do not succeed in explaining to myself
the fever that makes my thoughts tingle and burn. I do not understand, I
do not know. How did that dream stand firm amid the total annihilation
of unprofitable illusions? Is there then an element of reality, a
definite truth that encourages me, though I do not discern it?

I see myself going forward recklessly, like a traveller who knows that
there is somewhere a goal and who makes for it blindly, with the same
assurance as though the goal stood bright and luminous on a
mountain-top.

My only apology for these continual excursions is that I lay claim to
no rigidity of purpose; and I should almost be ashamed to come with
principles and axioms to those whom I am carrying away. Then why alter
the course of their destiny? Why appeal to their sympathy and their
confidence? What better lot have I to offer them and what can I hope for
even if they respond? Certainly I wish them fairer and more perfect,
freed from their childish dread of criticism, armed with a prouder and
more personal conception of honour than the code which is laid upon
them, respectful of their life and also encompassing it with infinite
indulgence and kindness. But is not that a wild ideal? In my memory, I
still see them smiling at it, those radiant faces which all my sermons
could not cloud, or which, vainly striving to understand them, never
reflected anything but their crudest and most extravagant features!

The newcomer with the grave countenance, the new soul divined beneath a
beauty that pleases me, will she at long last teach me how much is
possible and realisable in the vague ideal to which I pay homage,
wi