If I
didn't love you so dearly, David, I couldn't love you at all when you
are so dull. What do you mean by reading anything so tiresome out of
that foolish book? I think worse of it than ever."
Her smiles vanished like watery sunbeams. David trembled for fear she
might begin crying again. But she looked fondly up in his face, and
beamed brightly when she saw how frightened he was.
"But you know I do love you, David, dear. You know that you are all I
have, of my very own," she said. "I am unreasonable--I know that well
enough; but I couldn't help being hurt at your injustice to William.
Could I, dear?"
"Oh, no! No indeed!" responded the boy, with vague eagerness.
"Well, then, I will forgive you if you promise never to do it again.
And do you know any more about birds than you do about love, you poor
dear? Look at that one flying over the river. Why do they always cross
the stream in a slanting direction? Why do they never fly straight
across? And why do birds sing so seldom in the depths of the forest? And
is it true that none of the singing birds were here till the settlers
came? It is said that they came with the settlers.
Pages:
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288