Falconer--I cannot help thinking that you know
more of the secret of life than other people--if indeed it has any
secret.'
'Life certainly is no burden to me,' returned Falconer. 'If that
implies the possession of any secret which is not common property, I
fear it also involves a natural doubt whether such secret be
communicable.'
'Of course I mean only some secret everybody ought to know.'
'I do not misunderstand you.'
'I want to live. You know the world, Mr. Falconer. I need not tell
you what kind of life a girl like myself leads. I am not old, but
the gilding is worn off. Life looks bare, ugly, uninteresting. I
ask you to tell me whether there is any reality in it or not;
whether its past glow was only gilt; whether the best that can be
done is to get through with it as fast as possible?'
'Surely your ladyship must know some persons whose very countenances
prove that they have found a reality at the heart of life.'
'Yes. But none whose judgment I could trust. I cannot tell how soon
they may find reason to change their minds on the subject. Their
satisfaction may only be that they have not tried to rub the varnish
off the gilding so much as I, and therefore the gilding itself still
shines a little in their eyes.'
'If it be only gilding, it is better it should be rubbed off.'
'But I am unwilling to think it is. I am not willing to sign a bond
of farewell to hope. Life seemed good once.
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