A day is lost that does not pin at least one sweet
thought against each passing hour.'
And his inner construction took a further prodigious leap, as the
sentence showed him the grand and simple motive of her being. It had
been his own as well, though he had stupidly bungled it in his search
to find something big enough to seem worth doing. She, he divined,
found neighbours everywhere, losing no time. He had known a few rare,
exquisite souls who lived for others, but here, close beside him at
last, was one of those still rarer souls who seem born to--die for
others.... They give so unsparingly of their best.... To his
imaginative interpretation of her he gave full rein.... And it was
instantaneous as creation....
The voices of Minks and Mother renewed the stream of sound that swept
by him then, though he caught no words that were comparable in value
to these little singing phrases that she used from time to time.
Jimbo, bored by the grown-up talk that took the place of expected
stories, had fallen asleep upon his shoulder; Monkey's hair, as usual,
was in his eyes; he sat there listening and waiting with a heart that
beat so loudly he thought the children must feel it and ask him what
was the matter. Jinny stirred the peat from time to time. The room was
full of shadows. But, for him, the air grew brighter every minute, and
in this steady brilliance he saw the little figure rise and grow in
grandeur till she filled all space.
Pages:
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582