I looked up at him, and waited a few seconds before asking,—“Jack, is that right?”
Jack’s hands went over his face. Poor boy! I think he was longing for a little motherly comfort. I wondered what I might venture to say next. His face was hidden, with the exception of a flushed forehead.
“If I were you I would not think too much of what passed that day,” I said softly.
And then Jack, great broad-shouldered fellow, came down on the ground beside me,—just as Maimie herself would have come,—and laid his head on my knee and sobbed like a child. I left my work alone to pet and soothe him. “Don’t, Jack,—don’t, dear,” I said, more than once.
“O mother, it is hard! If you knew what she is to me!” he broke out at length.
“I think I understand.”
“I’m only a great stupid dunce, I know that,—and she’s too good, so clever and sweet. But somehow I did think she might care for me—just a little. And I could take care of her,—I could make her life easy.”
“No, Jack,” I said; “that is what no man can undertake to do for any woman. God chooses our paths. A husband can’t choose his wife’s path, though certainly he can make it harder or easier to walk on.”
“Well, I could shield her from some troubles,” Jack murmured. “I could live for her, and love her,—love her as nobody else can do.”
“I am not so sure about that either,” I said gently. “There will be many to love so winning a creature. But don’t be too certain that all must go against you in the future. Maimie is very young yet.”