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Chapter 8

           Itwashispower,hisgift,suddenlytoshedallsuperfluities,toshrinkanddiminishsothathelookedbarerandfeltsparer,evenphysically,yetlostnoneofhisintensityofmind,andsotostandonhislittleledgefacingthedarkofhumanignorance,howweknownothingandtheseaeatsawaythegroundwestandonthatwashisfate,hisgift.Buthavingthrownaway,whenhedismounted,allgesturesandfripperies,alltrophiesofnutsandroses,andshrunksothatnotonlyfamebutevenhisownnamewasforgottenbyhim,kepteveninthatdesolationavigilancewhichsparednophantomandluxuriatedinnovision,anditwasinthisguisethatheinspiredinWilliamBankes(intermittently)andinCharlesTansley(obsequiously)andinhiswifenow,whenshelookedupandsawhimstandingattheedgeofthelawn,profoundly,reverence,andpity,andgratitudetoo,asastakedrivenintothebedofachanneluponwhichthegullsperchandthewavesbeatinspiresinmerryboat-loadsafeelingofgratitudeforthedutyitistakinguponitselfofmarkingthechanneloutthereinthefloodsalone.

           "Butthefatherofeightchildrenhasnochoice."Mutteringhalfaloud,sohebrokeoff,turned,sighed,raisedhiseyes,soughtthefigureofhiswifereadingstoriestohislittleboy,filledhispipe.

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