It is mercifully granted that the intensity of present suffering is not realized. Only in looking back comes the pang, and the wonder at the seemingly passive endurance.
Again David’s memory was bridging the past to unveil that vivid picture of the patient-eyed woman bending over the tub, and the pity for her was hurting him more than the cruel banner which was flaunting the fact before a jeering, applauding crowd.
Mrs. Winthrop gave him a covert glance. She had great pride in her lineage, and her well-laid plans for her daughter’s future did not include David Dunne in their scope, but she was ever responsive to distress.
Before the look in his eyes every sensation save that of sympathy left her, and she went to him as she would have gone to a child of her own that had been hurt.
“David,” she said tenderly, laying her hand on his arm, “any woman in the world might be glad to take in washing to bring up a boy to be such a man as you are!”
Deeply moved and surprised, he looked into 221 her brimming eyes and met there the look he had sometimes seen in the eyes of his mother, of M’ri, and once in the eyes of Janey. Moved by an irresistible impulse, he stooped and kissed her.
The situation was relieved of its tenseness.
“I think, Joe,” said David, speaking collectedly, “we had better go to headquarters. Knowles will be looking for me.”
“Sure,” assented Joe, eager to get into action.
“Carey,” said David in a low voice, as he was leaving.