“And I thought then that if it gave you so much pleasure, why not keep on with it? The Lord knows the favors a helpless invalid can bestow are few enough! And the Lord also 143knows that I have no accomplishments. I cannot sing, or play, or recite poetry. At that time I could not even start a fire or bring in water. In fact, my sole accomplishment was to imitate a bird. ’Tis a humble gift, but I resolved to make the most of it.”
She stood facing him, about a dozen feet away, a striking figure, with the light from the setting sun on her white dress, the dark recesses of the wood for a background. Into her face came no signs of relenting. But he detected in her eyebrows a slight movement as if to maintain a frown, and he ventured nearer, slowly, as a dog just punished manœuvres for forgiveness. Removing his straw hat he knelt before her, his eyes upon the ground.
“I confess to a guilty feeling every time I did it. I knew a day of reckoning would come. But I was postponing it. I am ashamed, really ashamed; but on my honor my motive was good. Please be merciful.”
“Are you serious?–or trying to be funny, and not really caring much about it?”
“I am serious; very serious.”
“Do you realize what a contemptible trick it was–how mean-spirited and ungrateful?”
Lower still sank his head. “I do.”
144“And you promise never to deceive me again?”
“I swear it.”
“You value my good opinion, I suppose.”