“I can not find a meaning for you. They must be their own interpreter.”
“But I may think that you gave them to me to keep as long as I live.”
“Yes; to keep as long as you live.”
“When you have something to say to me—something that you know I am waiting to hear—will you say it, freely, of your own accord.”
“Yes, freely, of my own accord.”
“I regret to trouble you; but if you ever waited, you know that it is the hardest of hard work.”
“I know,” said Tessa, her voice breaking; “but you may not like what I say.”
“Perhaps you will say what I like then.”
“I will if I can.”
What had she to say, freely, of her own accord? I think that it was the knowledge of what she would say by and by when she was fully sure that helped her to bear the loneliness of this summer and autumn.