"
As he remembered them he felt guilty, guilty before Hermione. He saw
her as a spirit confined for years in a prison to which his action had
condemned her. Yes, she was in the dark. She was in an airless place.
She was deprived of the true liberty, that great freedom which is the
accurate knowledge of the essential truths of our own individual
lives. From his mind in that moment the cause of Hermione's outburst,
Vere and her childish secrets, were driven out by a greater thing that
came upon it like a strong and mighty wind--the memory of that lie, in
which he had enclosed his friend's life for years, that lie on which
her spirit had rested, on which it was resting still. And his sense of
truth did not permit him to try to refute her accusation. Indeed, he
was filled with a desire that nearly conquered him--there and then,
brutally, clearly, nakedly, to pour forth to his friend all the truth,
to say to her:
"You have a strong, a fiery spirit, a spirit that hates the dark, that
hates imprisonment, a spirit that can surely endure, like the eagle,
to gaze steadfastly into the terrible glory of the sun.
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