"To escape disappointments!" said Rufus.
"Yes."
"What is it?"
"Will you promise to follow it?"
"No mother," he said, with again a singular play of light and shade over his face; — "for it will be sure to be some impossible way. I mean — that an angel's wings may get over the rough ground where poor human feet must stumble."
How much the eyes were saying that looked at each other!
"There is provision even for that," she answered. "'As an eagle stirreth up her nest, fluttereth over her young, spreadeth abroad her wings, taketh them, beareth them on her wings,' so the Lord declares he did once lead his people, — and he will again, — over rough ground or smooth."
"My dear mother," said Rufus, "you are very good, and I — am not very good."
"I don't know that that is much to the point," she said smiling a little.
"Yes it is."