He was silent for a few minutes, gazing at the picture; then he continued:
"I had hoped," he said, sadly, "that at some date in the near future my dear cousin would have condescended to visit our—retreat, William, and have favored it with the seal of her approval. I venture to think that she would have found its conditions improved; ameliorated—a—rendered more in accordance with the ideal. But it was not to be, sir, it was not to be. As the lamented Keats observes, 'The Spirit mourn'd "Adieu!"' She is gone, sir; gone!"
"I have often meant to ask you, sir," said Will Jaquith, "what mountain that is. I don't seem to recognize it."
Mr. Homer was silent, his eyes still fixed on the picture. Jaquith, thinking he had not heard, repeated the question.
"I heard you, William, I heard you!" said Mr. Homer, with dignity. "I was considering what reply to make to you. That picture, sir, represents a Peak in Darien."
"Indeed!" said Will, in surprise. "Do you know its name? I did not think there were any so high as this."
Mr. Homer waved his hands with a vague gesture.
"I do not know its name!" he said, "Therefore I expressly said, a peak. I do not even know that this special mountain is in Darien, though I consider it so; I consider it so. The picture, William, is a symbolical one—to me. It represents—a—Woman."
"Woman!" repeated Jaquith, puzzled.
"Woman!" said Mr. Homer. His mild face flushed; he cleared his throat nervously, and opened and shut his mouth several times.