“And you are sure?” Mrs. Wilbur asked, as if doubtful whether human hearts were to be trusted.
“There is nothing to tell you, nothing. But you are so sure! A word, a look, and then, O Adela! there is such peace!”
Mrs. Wilbur stroked her face silently. The heart of a child had lived on into maturity in this woman, at least.
“And you don’t mind the poverty and the small future?”
“Adela!”
“And you think it will always be enough for him to put his arm there where mine is?”
“I don’t think.”
“Yes, that is better, dear. You have all that I have striven for. It has come to you unconsciously and naturally, like sleep when you are tired, or food when you are hungry.”
“Poor Adela!”
“Oh, no. I am content. I have found out, after all my blundering, what kind of a world it is. A big place! One must not shiver in it. The really foolish people are those who struggle, like me, for what is only an idea.”