"Characteristic," I echoed uneasily. "Ha!"
"And how kind."
"Did you say kind, ma'am?"
"But it is I who have the substance and you who have the shadow, as you know very well," said she.
Yes, I had always known that this was the one flaw in my dedication, but how could I have expected her to have the wit to see it? I was very depressed.
"And there is another mistake," said she.
"Excuse me, ma'am, but that is the only one.""It was never of my little white bird I wanted to write," she said.
I looked politely incredulous, and then indeed she overwhelmed me. "It was of your little white bird," she said, "it was of a little boy whose name was Timothy."She had a very pretty way of saying Timothy, so David and I went into another room to leave her alone with the manuscript of this poor little book, and when we returned she had the greatest surprise of the day for me. She was both laughing and crying, which was no surprise, for all of us would laugh and cry over a book about such an interesting subject as ourselves, but said she, "How wrong you are in thinking this book is about me and mine, it is really all about Timothy."At first I deemed this to be uncommon nonsense, but as Iconsidered I saw that she was probably right again, and I gazed crestfallen at this very clever woman.
"And so," said she, clapping her hands after the manner of David when he makes a great discovery, "it proves to be my book after all.""With all your pretty thoughts left out," I answered, properly humbled.
She spoke in a lower voice as if David must not hear. "I had only one pretty thought for the book," she said, "I was to give it a happy ending." She said this so timidly that I was about to melt to her when she added with extraordinary boldness, "The little white bird was to bear an olive-leaf in its mouth."For a long time she talked to me earnestly of a grand scheme on which she had set her heart, and ever and anon she tapped on me as if to get admittance for her ideas. I listened respectfully, smiling at this young thing for carrying it so motherly to me, and in the end I had to remind her that I was forty-seven years of age.
"It is quite young for a man," she said brazenly.
"My father," said I, "was not forty-seven when he died, and Iremember thinking him an old man."
"But you don't think so now, do you?" she persisted, "you feel young occasionally, don't you? Sometimes when you are playing with David in the Gardens your youth comes swinging back, does it not?""Mary A----," I cried, grown afraid of the woman, "I forbid you to make any more discoveries to-day."But still she hugged her scheme, which I doubt not was what had brought her to my rooms. "They are very dear women," said she coaxingly.
"I am sure," I said, "they must be dear women if they are friends of yours.""They are not exactly young," she faltered, "and perhaps they are not very pretty--"But she had been reading so recently about the darling of my youth that she halted abashed at last, feeling, I apprehend, a stop in her mind against proposing this thing to me, who, in those presumptuous days, had thought to be content with nothing less than the loveliest lady in all the land.
My thoughts had reverted also, and for the last time my eyes saw the little hut through the pine wood haze. I met Mary there, and we came back to the present together.
I have already told you, reader, that this conversation took place no longer ago than yesterday.
"Very well, ma'am," I said, trying to put a brave face on it, "Iwill come to your tea-parties, and we shall see what we shall see."It was really all she had asked for, but now that she had got what she wanted of me the foolish soul's eyes became wet, she knew so well that the youthful romances are the best.
It was now my turn to comfort her. "In twenty years," I said, smiling at her tears, "a man grows humble, Mary. I have stored within me a great fund of affection, with nobody to give it to, and I swear to you, on the word of a soldier, that if there is one of those ladies who can be got to care for me I shall be very proud." Despite her semblance of delight I knew that she was wondering at me, and I wondered at myself, but it was true.
