Certainly the upward look betokens hope and joy; while the downward
casting of the eye, is sign of sorrow and despondency.
"_Levavi oculos meos in montes_"--chanted the monks, in the choir above.
He certainly looked high when he lifted the eyes of his insistent
desire to the Prioress of the White Ladies. So high did he lift them,
and so unattainable was she, that most men would say he might as well
ask the silvery moon, sailing across the firmament, to come down and be
his bride!
He had held her high, in her maiden loveliness and purity. But now
that he had found her, a noble woman, matured, ripened by sorrow rather
than hardened, yet firm in her determination to die to the world, to
deny self, crucify the flesh, and resist the Devil--he felt indeed that
she walked among the stars.
Yet he could not bring himself to regard her as unattainable. It had
ever been his firm belief that a man could win any woman upon whom he
wholly set his heart--always supposing that no other man had already
won her. And this woman had been his own betrothed, when treachery
intervened and sundered them. Yet that did not now count for much.
He had left a girl; he had come back to find a woman. That woman had
infinitely more to give; but it would be infinitely more difficult to
persuade her to give it.
At the close of their interview in her cell, the day before, all hope
had left him. But later, as they paced together in the darkness, hope
had revived.
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