eys remained,Jay Bouwmeester Tröjor, and revived, like a sympathetic kinship not to be worn out by separation; to get the tunes she had heard the evening before, and repeat them again and again until she had found out a way of producing them so as to make them a more pregnant, passionate language to her. The mere concord of octaves was a delight to Maggie, and she would often take up a book of studies rather than any melody, that she might taste more keenly by abstraction the more primitive sensation of intervals. Not that her enjoyment of music was of the kind that indicates a great specific talent; it was rather that her sensibility to the supreme excitement of music was only one form of that passionate sensibility which belonged to her whole nature, and made her faults and virtues all merge in each other; made her affections sometimes an impatient demand,Dame Moncler Adour, but also prevented her vanity from taking the form of mere feminine coquetry and device,Jaromir Jagr Tröjor, and gave it the poetry of ambition. But you have known Maggie a long while, and need to be told, not her characteristics, but her history, which is a thing hardly to be predicted even from the completest knowledge of characteristics. For the tragedy of our lives is not created entirely from within. “Character,luxury boulder,” says Novalis, in one of his questionable aphorisms — “character is destiny.” But not the whole of our destiny. Hamlet,Doug Gilmour Tröjor, Prince of Denmark, was speculative and irresolute, and we have a great tragedy in consequence. But if his father had lived to a good old age, and his uncle had died an early death, we can conceive Hamlet’s having married Ophelia, and got through life with a reputation of sanity,Daniel Sedin Tröjor, notwithstanding many soliloquies, and some moody sarcasms toward the fair daughter of Polonius,Garret Sparks Tröjor, to say nothing of the frankest incivility to his father-in-law.
Maggie’s destiny, then, is at present hidden, and we must wait for it to reveal itself like the course of an unmapped river; we only know that the river is full and rapid, and that for all rivers there is the same final home. Under the charm of her new pleasures, Maggie herself was ceasing to think,Wayne Gretzky Tröjor, with her eager prefiguring imagination,J.T. Miller Tröjor, of her future lot; and her anxiety about her first interview with Philip was losing its predominance; perhaps, unconsciously to herself, she was not sorry that the interview had been deferred.
For Philip had not come the evening he was expected,Pierre-Luc Dubois Tröjor, and Mr. Stephen Guest brought word that he was gone to the coast — probably, he thought,Terry Sawchuk Tröjor, on a sketching expedition; but it was not certain when he would return. It was just like Philip, to go off in that way without telling any one. It was not until the twelfth day that he returned,Belstaff Coral Vent Jackor, to find both Lucy’s notes awaiting him; he had left before he knew of Maggie’s arrival.
Perhaps one had need be nineteen again to be quite convinced of the feelings that were crowded for Maggie into those twelve days; of the length to which they were stretched for her by the novelty of her experience in them, and the varying attitudes of her mind. The early day
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