“Do not be so impatient, Mr. Davis. Remember she is still an unknowing child, one who is afraid of strangers. One may cherish a rose-bud, but let him attempt to open the petals before they are formed and grown into rose-leaves, he will discover only bruised and broken fragrance in his hand.”
“Your philosophy is true; but it is hard to curb one’s impatience. I need her, Mrs. West, and since these days of pain which I spent in your home, the torture of being away from her is hard to bear.”
She could not doubt the sincerity of his confession, as she listened to his low, impassioned words.
“Will you help me, Mrs. West? Tell me you will help me in teaching her to care for me!”
“All I can reply, Mr. Davis, is that my first concern is and shall be the happiness of Bess,” and Mrs. West left him with this rather unsatisfactory reply.
The boat was now quite a distance out into the blue waters of the lake, and already Wild Horse Island was in sight. The day was beautifully clear and warm, and only a slight breeze stirred the tiny waves. The boat swung to the left and began to go up the big arm of the Lake, which in itself is a large-sized body of water. At Dayton Creek they waited a few moments while more passengers were taken aboard, and Bess was drawn from her couch to watch some fine horses being taken on the boat.
“There is one that looks like Mauchacho,” she said to Mrs. West, whom she thought was standing beside her.
“Please, may I talk to you now? There are a number of interesting things which I would like to point out to you, if I may,” said a low voice quite near her.