Поворот винта

           Iwonderedeventhenalittlewhysheshouldwishnottoshowit,andthat,withreflection,withsuspicion,mightofcoursehavemademeuneasy.

           Butitwasacomfortthattherecouldbenouneasinessinaconnectionwithanythingsobeatificastheradiantimageofmylittlegirl,thevisionofwhoseangelicbeautyhadprobablymorethananythingelsetodowiththerestlessnessthat,beforemorning,mademeseveraltimesriseandwanderaboutmyroomtotakeinthewholepictureandprospect;towatch,frommyopenwindow,thefaintsummerdawn,tolookatsuchportionsoftherestofthehouseasIcouldcatch,andtolisten,while,inthefadingdusk,thefirstbirdsbegantotwitter,forthepossiblerecurrenceofasoundortwo,lessnaturalandnotwithout,butwithin,thatIhadfanciedIheard.TherehadbeenamomentwhenIbelievedIrecognized,faintandfar,thecryofachild;therehadbeenanotherwhenIfoundmyselfjustconsciouslystartingasatthepassage,beforemydoor,ofalightfootstep.Butthesefancieswerenotmarkedenoughnottobethrownoff,anditisonlyinthelight,orthegloom,Ishouldrathersay,ofotherandsubsequentmattersthattheynowcomebacktome.Towatch,teach,“form”littleFlorawouldtooevidentlybethemakingofahappyandusefullife.IthadbeenagreedbetweenusdownstairsthatafterthisfirstoccasionIshouldhaveherasamatterofcourseatnight,hersmallwhitebedbeingalreadyarranged,tothatend,inmyroom.