"
"Of course it is. Downstairs has been a mythical sort of place for a
good while. I couldn't quite believe in it. I've thought a thousand
times of this blue couch and these pillows. I've thought of that old
grand piano of yours, and of how it would seem to hear you play it
again. Play for me now, will you, Len?"
She sat down in her old place, and his eyes watched her hungrily, as
King could plainly see. To the younger man the love between these two
was something to study and believe in, something to hope for as a
wonderful possibility in his own case.
When Ellen stopped playing Burns spoke musingly. Speech seemed a
necessity for him to-night--happiness overflowed and must find
expression.
"I've had a lot of stock advice for my patients that'll mean something I
understand for myself now," he said. He sat almost upright among the
blue pillows, his arm outstretched along the back of the couch, his long
legs comfortably extended. It was no longer the attitude of the invalid
but of the well man enjoying earned repose. "I wonder how often I've
said to some tired mother or too-busy housewife who longed for rest: 'If
you were to become crippled or even forbidden to work any more and made
to rest for good, how happy these past years would seem to you when you
were tired because you had accomplished something.' I can say that now
with personal conviction of its truth. It looks to me as if to come in
dog-tired and drop into this corner with the memory of a good job done
would be the best fun I've ever had.
Pages:
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210