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Atherton, Gertrude Franklin Horn, 1857-1948

"The Conqueror"

But to-night he
let the deeps rise. He ached with human wants, and he was bidden to
work out his last act of service to the country for whose sole use he
had been sent to Earth.
He dropped his hands and stared at the worlds above. "Must I go on?" he
thought. "Is that it? Does other work await me elsewhere? Has the
Almighty detached from himself a few creative egos, who go from world to
world and do their part; removed the day their usefulness is over, that
they shall not dissipate their energy, nor live until men regard with
slighting wonder the work of the useless old creature in their midst,
withdraw from it their first reverence? I go in the fulness of my
maturity and the high tide of respect and affection; I go in the
dramatic manner of my advent, and my work will be a sacred thing;--even
my enemies will not dare to pull it down until such time as they are
calm enough to see it as it is; and then the desire will have passed.
Doubtless all things are best and right.... Maturity? I feel as old as
time and as young as laughter."
He sat up suddenly and bent his head.


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