"I cannot claim as intimate an acquaintance with the opinions of that gentleman as you possess, little sage; nevertheless, I'll be bound that he supports my opinion. I can't definitely remember, mark you; I am only sure on general principles that no one who taught your pretty, sentimental rubbish—forgive me, sweetheart—could have contrived to get himself accepted for so long. You look—or rather we will seek together—and I'll warrant that I find and show you confirmation of my words."
That night Evarne retired considerably earlier than usual, but unable to sleep, and soon utterly weary of the darkness and her own tangled thoughts, she resolved to follow Morris's advice of the afternoon. She would delve once more into that master-mind that they had both invoked as upholding their contrary ideals.
Flashing on the light, she went into the red room, and returned with her arms filled with the six big volumes of Plato. Tumbling them all on the table by her side she slipped into bed again, and reclining comfortably amid her soft, faintly-perfumed pillows, drew a volume at random from the pile, then hesitated a moment before opening it.
She had perfect confidence that in these works of Plato no sentiments would be found of the nature that Morris sought.
"My dear one is unwise, after holding up fame and success as a bribe, to send me to read this—which is my Bible—and which teaches that happiness lies only in the pursuit of wisdom, of virtue, of all that is good," was her thought, as she lazily laid open the pages. Little did she deem that her bewildering doubts and difficulties were at length to be definitely solved.
It is hard to avoid the terrible belief that there exists a malign omnipotent Spirit at enmity with the race of man; an evil Power untiringly concentrated on watching for and contriving opportunities to work dire mischief—to create miseries of all kinds—to impose agony of mind and body upon all that has life. Not without some show of reason have there ever been secret sects of devil-worshippers, who recognise the existence of, and seek to propitiate, this force so hostile to humanity, this merciless Something that works with superhuman ingenuity to aid and bring to fruition that which is of itself—evil—to conquer, to destroy, to render impotent all that which is of a contrary nature; or more terrible still, to bend such to its own purposes, employing all that is best and noblest and sweetest in life and human nature as tools wherewith to work destruction.
Within a few minutes of opening the Oracle, Evarne was sitting erect, all her sleepy indifference and listlessness gone. Throughout all the time of her mental stress she had not appealed to these familiar works. What more could a further study of Socrates do than intensify her desire to remain his faithful disciple? She had deemed it quite useless to look for special guidance as to which of the two opposing courses open to her really led to the acquisition of true wisdom, virtue, and spiritual beauty. That she should now open directly at one of those strangely rare definite statements concerning right and wrong, was a coincidence so extraordinary that it is difficult to believe that a controlling intelligence had not arranged this apparent chance.
She re-read the sentence upon which her eye had fallen, vaguely wondering how she could ever have forgotten its doctrine. It was a portion of the "Phædrus," and referred to that eternal topic, love, or rather to a certain imitation of the glorious reality. This semblance was characterised as "being mingled with mortal prudence, and dispensing mortal and niggardly gifts," and its dire result was "to generate in the soul an illiberality which is praised by the multitude as virtue, but which will cause it to be tossed about the earth and beneath the earth for nine thousand years, devoid of intelligence."
Naturally, it was not a belief in the threatened aftermath of harbouring this "illiberality" that appalled her. It was the sudden revelation that the inspired Socrates—far from upholding and approving her present discreet line of conduct—would have condemned her for "illiberality praised by the multitude as virtue," as unhesitatingly as she was now willing to confess that she herself held it in contempt! After the first moment's shock she found comfort in the reflection that the opinion at which she had arrived independently, albeit slowly and reluctantly, found confirmation in the words of this great teacher.