Cyril Aylwin, whom I had not seen since we parted in
Wales, was now on the Continent with Wilderspin. Strange as it may
seem, I looked forward with eagerness to the return of this
light-hearted jester. Cyril's sagacity and knowledge of the world had
impressed me in Wales; but his cynical attitude, whether genuine or
assumed, towards subjects connected with deep passion, had prevented
my confiding in him. He must, I knew, have gathered from Sinfi, and
from other sources, that I was mourning the loss of a Welsh girl in
humble life; but during our very brief intercourse in Wales neither
of us had mentioned the matter to the other. Now, however, in my
present dire strait I longed to call in the aid of his penetrative
mind.
VIII
ISIS AS HUMOURIST
I
On reaching London I resumed my wanderings through the London
streets. Bitter as these wanderings were, my real misery now did not
begin until I got to bed. Then began the terrible struggle of the
soul that wrestles with its ancestral fleshly prison--that prison
whose warders are the superstitions of bygone ages.
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