He knows that he is now
sure of courteous treatment; that his friends are all proud of him; but
the old cloud will never entirely disappear. Something has been lost which
can never be regained. And the loss is not his alone, it is theirs too;
they are all poorer for life, by reason of the unkind days which are gone.
This, then, is the explanation of the awkward age. I am not afraid of any
dissent from my definition of the source whence its misery springs.
Everybody's consciousness bears witness. Everybody knows, in the bottom of
his heart, that, however much may be said about the change of voice, the
thinness of cheeks, the sharpness of arms, the sudden length in legs and
lack of length in trousers and frocks,--all these had nothing to do with
the real misery. The real misery was simply and solely the horrible
feeling of not belonging anywhere; not knowing what a moment might bring
forth in the way of treatment from others; never being sure which impulse
it would be safer to follow, to retreat or to advance, to speak or to be
silent, and often overwhelmed with unspeakable mortification at the rebuff
of the one or the censure of the other.
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