” Ennison was dismayed. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. Anna, why will you persist in this single-handed combat with life?” “Don’t!” she cried. "Your enemy!" she returned imperfectly comprehending him. In those revolutionary times one had to be prepared. He waved a hand toward the sea. Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature. She found herself asking more and more curiously, “Why, on the principle of the survival of the fittest, have I any sense of beauty at all?” That enabled her to go on thinking about beauty when it seemed to her right that she should be thinking about biology. I am a little afraid.
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