I could not do for him as then could she.
For she would turn his pillow, tell him tales,
Bring books and pictures, just what pleas’d him most.
But, ah, to me those patient eyes of his
Appear’d such holy things! My deeds were hush’d:
I did not dare disturb the silence there.
It could not all have been mere selfishness;
Yet I to look at him was all content.
XIV.
And my inaptitude my sister knew.