Dolores (2013)
“Dolores returned to the little emotionless world where she had her lot, sustained—since sustaining was her need—by the hope that what she had seen had its being only in her eyes. She knew it was not as she hoped; but had not strength to carry the knowledge.
And it was not as she hoped. Other sight than her own saw the change. Perdita was the mark of the glances of many eyes, and the words of many lips. Poor Perdita! She could not but know a feverish joy, in this feeling herself seen the one of ...these many bright souls, which had earned homage where any heed was of price; and she did not shrink from the giving of her ear to words, or her eyes to the meeting of glances. To her nature bending was easy, and she bowed to present force. But beneath, no less than Dolores, she lived a hidden life. It was not that the hidden life was as Dolores’. It had no place for struggle or searching of self. But it held a passion—a passion which for all its difference, was enough to bend her yielding soul.MoreLess
And it was not as she hoped. Other sight than her own saw the change. Perdita was the mark of the glances of many eyes, and the words of many lips. Poor Perdita! She could not but know a feverish joy, in this feeling herself seen the one of ...these many bright souls, which had earned homage where any heed was of price; and she did not shrink from the giving of her ear to words, or her eyes to the meeting of glances. To her nature bending was easy, and she bowed to present force. But beneath, no less than Dolores, she lived a hidden life. It was not that the hidden life was as Dolores’. It had no place for struggle or searching of self. But it held a passion—a passion which for all its difference, was enough to bend her yielding soul.MoreLess
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