And, though she knew it not, nor
would have understood it, she was a symbol-lover, than which there is no
form of lover more dangerous in life--or more endangered by the chances
of it. For he who loves another human being gives his heart in fee, but
he who loves an idea gives his soul.
CHAPTER IV: IN WHICH THE ONION-SELLER'S
DAUGHTER FEELS HERSELF A GODDESS
Chapter IV
IN WHICH THE ONION-SELLER'S DAUGHTER FEELS HERSELF A GODDESS
Loveday bore home the milk in a maze of bliss, and staying not for her
supper, for no hunger of the body was upon her, turned and went out
again into the glow of the evening. Had she been as full of sensibility
as a young lady she would have wandered straight away from Upper Farm,
forgotten the milk, and not thought of it again, till, returning with
the upgetting of the moon, her aunt had met her with vulgar reproaches.
What a charming scene could then have been staged, of sensitive genius
misunderstood by coarse-grained labour; of vision-drunken youth berated
by undreaming age! But she was not a young lady, and could derive no
felicity from forgetfulness of such a kind, for with the poor the
urgencies of the immediate task are raised to such compelling interest
that only a genius could neglect them with satisfaction. Therefore
Loveday never thought of forgetting the milk for her aunt, but her
exultation was of such a powerful sort that it upheld her through the
commonplaces of routine without her perceiving the incongruity which
would have jarred on one of a finer upbringing.
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