They remained fixed with a kind of blank horror and distraction on the
landscape for some time after both had disappeared.
At last, however, he seemed to recover his senses, and to come back from
the place where he had been struck by the hammer of treachery. He seemed
to realize again that he was still a part of the common world, not a
human being swung through the universe on his heart-strings by a Gorgon.
The paper and pencil in his hand brought him back from the far Gehenna
where he had been, to the world again--how stony and stormy a world it
was, with the air gone as heavy as lead, with his feet so loaded down
with chains that he could not stir! He had had great joy of this his
world; he had found it a place where every day were problems to be solved
by an astute mind, problems which gave way before the master-thinker.
There was of course unhappiness in his world. There was death, there was
accident occasionally--had his own people not gone down under the scythe
of time? But in going they had left behind in real estate and other
things good compensation for their loss. There was occasional suffering
and poverty and trouble in his little kingdom; but a cord of wood here, a
barrel of flour there, a side of beef elsewhere, a little debt remitted,
a bag of dried apples, or an Indian blanket--these he gave, and had great
pleasure in giving; and so the world was not a place where men should
hang their heads, but a place where the busy man got more than the worth
of his money.
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