He had the leisure and self-control for
good-comradeship, and without questioning she enjoyed it. Her life was
almost as free from care as that of the young birds that had begun their
existence in June.
Only Webb perplexed and troubled her a little. At this season, when even
Leonard indulged in not a little leisure and rest, he was busy and
preoccupied. She could not say that he avoided her, and yet it seemed to
happen that they were not much together. "I fear I'm too young and
girlish to be a companion for him," she sighed. "His manner is just as
kind and gentle, but he treats me as if I were his very little sister. I
don't seem to have the power to interest him that I once had. I wish I
knew enough to talk to him as he would like;" and she stealthily tried to
read some of the scientific books that she saw him poring over.
He, poor fellow, was engaged in the most difficult task ever given to
man--the ruling of his own spirit. He saw her sisterly solicitude and
goodwill, but could not respond in a manner as natural as her own. This
was beyond human capability. His best resource was the comparative
solitude of constant occupation. He was growing doubtful, however, as to
the result of his struggle, while Amy was daily becoming more lovely in
his eyes. Her English life had not destroyed the native talent of an
American girl to make herself attractive. She knew instinctively how to
dress, how to enhance the charms of which nature had not been chary, and
Webb's philosophy and science were no defence against her winsomeness.
Pages:
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374