She seemed to have grasped a good deal for her years.
“I see you have learned a way of your own in your travels.”
“Travels! I’ve never been out of this valley, but I have grandpa and my mother and my dreams.”
“Your mother. I heard that your mother was dead,” he said, quietly.
“She isn’t as long as I am living,” was her answer.
Glenn Andrews looked at her. There was wisdom in the sentiment she expressed. All the childishness had passed out of her face.
He hesitated, astonished. “I believe that, in a sense,” he said. “It is my theory of fulfillment. What could spur us to higher destinies than the belief that we were carrying out the hopes, the aims of someone we loved—perpetuating their life through our own!”
“She wanted me to be a musician,” Esther began with a sudden dimness in her eyes. “She was one until she had rheumatism in her arms. I’ve strength and health to build on, something she lacked. My mother was an invalid all her life after I was born.”
“Health is the most priceless gift in this world.”
For a time he forgot it was near the dinner hour. He was caught by the witchery of the girl and the place.