She did not speak at
all. In this tiny room, with these two old souls who loved her, she need
not explain. She sat quite still, and Mrs. Welden after looking at her
for a few seconds was prompted by some sublimely simple intuition, and
gently sidled Mrs. Bester and her youngest into the little kitchen,
where the copper was.
"Her helpin' him like she did, makes it come near," she whispered.
"Dessay it seems as if he was a'most like a relation."
Old Doby sat and looked at his goddess. In his slowly moving old brain
stirred far-off memories like long-dead things striving to come to life.
He did not know what they were, but they wakened his dim eyes to a new
seeing of the slim young shape leaning a little forward, the soft cloud
of hair, the fair beauty of the cheek. He had not seen anything like
it in his youth, but--it was Youth itself, and so was that which the
ringers were so soon to toll for; and for some remote and unformed
reason, to his scores of years they were pitiful and should be cheered.
He bent forward himself and put out his ancient, veined and knotted,
gnarled and trembling hand, to timorously touch the arm of her he
worshipped and adored.
"God bless ye!" he said, his high, cracked voice even more shrill and
thin than usual.
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