"Young, but wise," said Mr. Delancy.
"No! Young, but not wise. I cannot see the way plain before me for a
single week, Mr. Delancy. For a week? No, not for a day!"
"Who does?" asked the old man.
"Some."
"None. There are many who walk onward with erect heads and confident
bearing. They are sure of their way, and smile if one whisper a
caution as to the ground upon which they step so fearlessly. But
they soon get astray or into pitfalls. God keeping and guiding us,
Rose, we may find our way safely through this world. But we will
soon lose ourselves if we trust in our own wisdom."
Thus they talked--that old man and gentle-hearted girl--as they
moved about the garden-walks, every new flower, or leaf, or opening
bud they paused to admire or examine, suggesting themes for wiser
words than usually pass between one so old and one so young. At Mr.
Delancy's earnest request, Rose stayed to dinner, the waiting-man
being tent to her father's, not far distant, to take word that she
would not be at home until in the afternoon.