Everyman's Land

								

he were still at the aviation camp, or had finished his training and
gone to the front, I didn't know: but I wafted a blessing to our
benefactor. I little dreamed then of the unforgivable injury I was fated
to do him! You see, Padre, I use the word "fated." That's because I've
turned coward. I try to pretend that fate has been too strong for me.
But down deep I know you were right when you said, "Our characters carve
our fate."
It was a long journey from the south to the north, where Brian was, for
in war-days trains do what they like and what nobody else likes. I
travelled for three days and nights, and when I came to my journey's
end, instead of Brian being dead as I'd seen him in a hundred hideous
dreams, the doctors held out hope that he might live. They told me this
to give me courage, before they broke the news that he would be blind. I
suppose they thought I'd be so thankful to keep my brother at any price,
that I should hardly feel the shock. But I wasn't thankful. I wasn't!
The price seemed too big. I judged Brian by myself--Brian, who so
worshipped beauty that I used to call him "Phidias!" I was sure he would
rather have gone out of this world whose face he'd loved, than stay in
it without eyes for its radiant smile. But there I made a great mistake.
Brian was magnificent. Perhaps you would have known what to expect of
him better than I knew.
Where you are, you will understand why he did not despair. I couldn't
understand then, and I scarcely can now, though living with my blind
Brian is teaching me lessons I feel unworthy to learn. It was he who
comforted me, not I him. He said that all the beauty of earth was his
already, and nothing could take it away. He wouldn't let it be taken
away! He said that sight was first given to all created creatures in the
form of a desire to see, desire so intense that with the developing
faculty of sight, animals developed eyes for its concentration. He
reminded me how in dreams, and even in thoughts--if they're vivid
enough--we see as distinctly with our brains as with our eyes. He said
he meant to make a wonderful world for himself with this vision of the
brain and soul. He intended to develop the power, so that he would gain
more than he had lost, and I must help him.
Of course I promised to help all I could; but there was death in my
heart. I remembered our gorgeous holiday together before the war,
tramping through France, Brian painting those lovely "impressions" of
his, which made him money and something like fame. And oh, I remembered
not only that such happy holidays were over, but that soon there would
be no more money for our bare living!
We were always so poor, that church mice were plutocrats compared to us.
At least they need pay no rent, and have to buy no clothes! I'm sure, if
the truth were known, the money Father left for our education and
bringing up was gone before we began to support ourselves, though you