A Bicycle of Cathay - Page 107/112

That dinner was the most soothing meal of which I had ever partaken. I

did the carving, my companions did the questioning, and nearly all the

conversation was about myself. Ordinarily I would not have liked this,

but every word which was said by these two fair ladies--for the

sweetness of the mother was merely more seasoned than that of the

daughter--was so filled with friendly interest that it gratified me to

make my answers.

They seemed to have heard a great deal about me during my wanderings

through Cathay. They knew, of course, that I had stopped with the

Putneys, for I had told them that, but they had also heard that I had

spent a night at the Holly Sprig, and had afterwards stayed with the

Larramies. But of anything which had happened which in the slightest

degree had jarred upon my feelings they did not appear to have heard

the slightest mention.

I might have supposed that only good and happy news thought it worth

while to stop at that abode of peace. As I looked upon the serene and

tender countenance of Mrs. Burton I wondered how a cloud rising from

want of sympathy with early peas ever could have settled over this

little family circle; but it was the man who had caused the cloud. I

knew it. It is so often the man.

When we had finished dinner and had gone out to sit in the cool

shadows of the piazza, I let my gaze rest as often as I might upon the

fair face of that young girl. Several times her eyes met mine, but

their lids never drooped, their tender light did not brighten. I felt

that she was so truly glad to see me that her pleasure in the meeting

was not affected one way or the other by the slight incident of my

looking at her.

If ever a countenance told of innocence, purity, and truth, her

countenance told of them. I believe that if she had thought it

pleased me to look at her, it would have pleased her to know that it

gave me pleasure.

As I talked with her and looked at her, and as I looked at her mother

and talked with her, it was impressed upon me that if there is one

thing in this world which is better than all else, it is peace, that

peace which comprises so many forms of happiness and deep content.

That the thoughts which came to me could come to a heart so lacerated,

so torn, so full of pain as mine had been that morning, seemed

wonderful, and yet they came.

Once or twice I tried to banish these thoughts. It seemed

disrespectful to myself to entertain them so soon after other thoughts

which I now wished to banish utterly. I am not a hero of romance. I am

only a plain human being, and such is the constitution of my nature

that the more troubled and disturbed is my soul, the more welcome is

purity, truth, and peace.