"Tired? Yes. Tell me—you who are said to be a philosopher—have you found life to be so pleasant a thing that you have never been tired of it?" She did not give him time to answer, but went on hurriedly, "Is it not, on the contrary, made up of struggles which wear one out;—of vain efforts to win some longed-for object? And how great is the weariness which follows these struggles, when one sees that object slipping from one's grasp, and about to fall into the hands of one who has, perhaps, never fought for it!"
He looked at her in amazement as he exclaimed—
"You speak almost with the bitterness of experience, Miss Elton!"
"I speak of life in general. Is it not what I have said?"
"Yes, perhaps it is so,—at least, until we have learned that there is nothing in it worth struggling for!"
"But I do not think it true that there is nothing in life worth struggling for; nor in reality do you. Ay, there are things worth struggling for, and at this very moment you feel that there are!"
"Miss Elton!"
"I know that I astonish you greatly. You cannot understand that I should speak thus,—I, who am generally so calm and quiet. But there are times when one forgets conventionality, and everything else;—times when life becomes a burden, and one envies the Pagans, who saw no crime in laying it down voluntarily. We are given too much or too little light and faith—enough to prevent us from choosing between life and death, as they did, but not enough to prevent us from longing that we, too, had the power so to choose.... Ah! if one did not believe in eternal happiness or misery!"
At this moment, Mrs. Elton and Helena came in, and there would have been an awkward pause, had not Mary continued, with perfect coolness—