“It is easier seen than confessed, sometimes.”
“True. And Louis has a giant of pride. If he is hurt he will not stop to explain. If you misunderstand, he will not set you right. You have to grope your way along in perplexity. Yet I think we are coming a little nearer to each other, through you.”
“And Mrs. Whitcomb. She has a way of uniting people, of healing differences.”
“I am doubly fortunate in having her. Otherwise I must have borrowed—your mother.”
I smiled a little at this. It made me think of the Churchills borrowing Fan. Isn’t it so the world over? The sweetness and brightness of other lives comes into ours, sometimes the darkness and sorrow. We rarely stand alone.
“I believe I like frank, open natures the best;” he went on. “And cheerfulness. A great outgiving like the world and the sunshine.”
“But when one has been in a cave a long while the light dazzles. Some people do not want to take in but a little at a time, and perhaps we hurt them by thrusting so much into their very souls.”
“Yes,” he answered, “When a man is starving you do not feast him at once. I must remember that.”
Edith began to worry. I took her up in my arms and hushed her softly.
Mr. Duncan was not looking at me, but a strange, tender light came into his face, a half smile that brought the dawn to my mind by way of comparison. He seemed to pay no attention to me for many minutes, but just to be occupied with his own reflections. I rose to take Edith in, as she evinced unmistakable symptoms of hunger.