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Mitchell, S. Weir (Silas Weir), 1829-1914

"Westways"

Why,
you are really learning to walk, as you did not until of late."
Making no reply to her personal remark, he was silent for a moment, and
then said with slow articulation and to her surprise, for he rarely spoke
of himself, "Nine years ago I came here, a man broken in mind and body.
This life and these dear friends have made me as strong as I can ever
hope to be. But the rest--the rest. I know what power God has given me
to bring souls to him. I can influence men--the lowly and--well, others,
as few can. I cannot live in cities--I dare not risk the failure in
health; and yet, I want--I want a larger field. I found it when your
aunt's liberality sent me to the army. There in my poor way I can serve
my country--and that is much to me." He was silent.
"But," she said, "is there not work enough here? and the war cannot last
much longer. Don't think you must ever leave us."
"I shall--I must. There are limitations I cannot talk of even--above all
to you. Your aunt knows this--and your uncle did--long ago."
"What limitations?" she asked rashly.
"You are the last person, Leila Grey, to whom I could speak of them. I
have said too much, but"--and he paused--"I am tired--I will leave you to
finish your walk." The great beautiful eyes turned on him for a moment.


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