A coward! was he a coward? Surely a blind man had very little choice;
deeds of danger were debarred from him, but Silas dwelt amorously upon
such deeds—courage pre-eminent amongst the high attributes that
fascinated, baffled, and angered him.
By a twist of his brain, through his blindness, courage meant light.
Courage shone. It allured him, so that he turned constantly round the
image. There was nothing moral about this allurement, it was as pagan as
any cult of beauty. Courage moreover—physical courage—carried with it
the thought of death, which to his egoism was so supremely and morbidly
entrancing. That he should cease to be?... he could never adopt this
idea. He went up to it, and fingered it, but its clammy touch revolted
him, and he violently rejected it always. But he returned to it again
and again, working back his way in a roundabout fashion, disguising the
phantom under a rich cloak of phrases.