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Benson, Arthur Christopher, 1862-1925

"The Child of the Dawn"

"It is wonderful to me," said Charmides,
as the last movement drew to a close of liquid melody, "that these
sounds should pass into the heart like wine, heightening and uplifting
the thought--there is nothing so beautiful as the discrimination of
mood with which it affects one, weighing one delicate phrase against
another, and finding all so perfect."
"Yes," I said, "I can understand that; but I must confess that there
seems to me something wanting in the melodies of this place. The music
which I loved in the old days was the music which spoke to the soul of
something further yet and unattainable; but here the music seems to have
attained its end, and to have fulfilled its own desire."
"Yes," said Charmides, "I know that you feel that; your mind is very
clear to me, up to a certain point; and I have sometimes wondered why
you spend your time here, because you are not one of us, as your friend
Cynthia is."
I glanced, as he spoke, to where Cynthia sat on a great carved settle
among cushions, side by side with Lucius, whispering to him with a
smile.
"No," I said, "I do not think I have found my place yet, but I am here,
I think, for a purpose, and I do not know what that purpose is.


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