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But I knew you must be busy." "I have been superintending the arrangement of bedrooms, and the unpacking, and twenty different things," said Ethelwyn. "We shall be so comfortable! It is such a curious house! Have you had a nice walk?" "Mamma, I never had such a walk in my life," returned Wynnie.
I should have my people, my souls, my beloved faces tenfold more, and could well afford to part with these. Why should I mind this chain passing to my eldest boy, when it was only his mother's hair, and I should have his mother still? So my thoughts went on thinking themselves, until at length I yielded passively to their flow. I found Wynnie looking very grave when I went into the drawing-room.
We went on chatting for some time, wondering how the coast-guard had fared with the vessel ashore at the Goose-pot. Wynnie joined us. "How is Connie, now, my dear?" "Very restless and excited, papa. I came down to say, that if Mr. Turner didn't mind, I wish he would go up and see her." "Of course instantly," said Turner, and moved to follow Winnie.
"I told you I was very wicked, papa." "And I told you not to say so, Wynnie." "You see I cannot enjoy it, papa. I wonder why it is." "I suspect it is because you haven't room, Wynnie." "I know you mean something more than I know, papa."
And besides, I believe wise girls have an instinct about men that all the experience of other men cannot overtake. But yet again, there are many girls foolish enough to mistake a mere impulse for instinct, and vanity for insight. As Wynnie spoke, she turned and went back to the house to fetch some of her work.
She looked worse in face pale and worn; but it was clear, from the way she moved in bed, that the fresh power called forth by the shock had not vanished with the moment. Wynnie was quieter almost than ever; but there was a constant secret light, if I may use the paradox, in her eyes. Percivale was at the house every day, always ready to make himself useful. My wife bore up wonderfully.
But the minds which have thus conceived the truth, would have been immeasurably worse without it; nay, this truth affords at last the only possible door out of the miseries of their own chaos, whether inherited or the result of their own misconduct." "What's that in the grass?" cried Wynnie, in a tone of alarm.
"Why not us, then?" said Wynnie. "Because you do not need to be pained." "Are you sure it is good for you to pain anybody?" I said. "Good is done by pain is it not?" he asked. "Undoubtedly. But whether we are wise enough to know when and where and how much, is the question." "Of course I do not make the pain my object."
You get your bonnet, Wynnie, and come out with me. I am going to explore a little of this desert island upon which we have been cast away. And you, Connie, just to please Wynnie, must try and go to sleep again." Wynnie ran for her bonnet, a little afraid perhaps that I was going to talk seriously to her, but showing no reluctance anyhow to accompany me.
From the truth comes the power, but the shape it assumes to the man is from the man himself." "You are quite beyond me now, papa," said Wynnie. "Well, my dear," I answered, "I will return to the words of the boy Jesus, instead of talking more about them; and when I have shown you what they mean, I think you will allow that that feeling you have about them is all and altogether an illusion."
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