At the door he placed
Johnnie's hand in her mother's, and gently said, "Good-by;" but the
pleased smile of the child and Mrs. Leonard followed him. As he entered
his porch, other maternal eyes rested upon him, and the brooding bluebird
on her nest seemed to say, with Johnnie, "I am not afraid of you."
Possibly to the lonely man this may prove Easter-Sunday in very truth,
and hope, that he had thought buried forever, come from its grave.
In the afternoon all the young people started for the hills, gleaning the
earliest flowers, and feasting their eyes on the sunlit landscapes veiled
with soft haze from the abundant moisture with which the air was charged.
As the sun sank low in the many-hued west, and the eastern mountains
clothed themselves in royal purple, Webb chanced to be alone, near Amy,
and she said:
"You have had that flower all day, and I have not had your thoughts."
"Oh, yes, you have--a great many of them."
"You know that isn't what I mean. You promised to tell me what you were
thinking about so deeply this morning."
He looked at her smilingly a moment, and then his face grew gentle and
grave as he replied: "I can scarcely explain, Amy. I am learning that
thoughts which are not clear-cut and definite may make upon us the
strongest impressions. They cause us to feel that there is much that we
only half know and half understand as yet. You and your flowers seemed to
interpret to me the meaning of this day as I never understood it before.
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