As this life is a Broad Highway along which we must all of us
pass whether we will or no; as it is a thoroughfare sometimes
very hard and cruel in the going, and beset by many hardships,
sometimes desolate and hatefully monotonous, so, also, must its
aspect, sooner or later, change for the better, and, the stony
track overpassed, the choking heat and dust left behind, we may
reach some green, refreshing haven shady with trees, and full of
the cool, sweet sound of running waters. Then who shall blame us
if we pause unduly in this grateful shade, and, lying upon our
backs a while, gaze up through the swaying green of trees to the
infinite blue beyond, ere we journey on once more, as soon we
must, to front whatsoever of good or evil lies waiting for us in
the hazy distance.
To just such a place am I now come, in this, my history; the
record of a period which I, afterwards, remembered as the
happiest I had ever known, the memory of which must remain with
me, green and fragrant everlastingly.
If, in the forthcoming pages, you shall find over-much of
Charmian, I would say, in the first place, that it is by her, and
upon her, that this narrative hangs; and, in the second place,
that in this part of my story I find my greatest pleasure; though
here, indeed, I am faced with a great difficulty, seeing that I
must depict, as faithfully as may be, that most difficult, that
most elusive of all created things, to wit--a woman.
Truly, I begin to fear lest my pen fail me altogether for the
very reason that it is of Charmian that I would tell, and of
Charmian I understand little more than nothing; for what rule has
ever been devised whereby a woman's mind may be accurately
gauged, and who of all those wise ones who have written hitherto
--poets, romancers, or historians--has ever fathomed the why and
wherefore of the Mind Feminine?
A fool indeed were I to attempt a thing impossible; I do but seek
to show her to you as I saw her, and to describe her in so far as
I learned to know her.
And yet, how may I begin? I might tell you that her nose was
neither arched nor straight, but perfect, none the less; I might
tell you of her brows, straight and low, of her eyes, long and
heavy-lashed, of her chin, firm and round and dimpled; and yet,
that would not be Charmian. For I could not paint you the scarlet
witchery of her mouth with its sudden, bewildering changes, nor
show you how sweetly the lower lip curved up to meet its mate.
I might tell you that to look into her eyes was like gazing down
into very deep water, but I could never give you their varying
beauty, nor the way she had with her lashes; nor can I ever
describe her rich, warm coloring, nor the lithe grace of her body.