"Mademoiselle," he went on, "it has been my lot to love the prince like
a son. It has been my lot to stand helplessly by while he passed through
many troubles. Perhaps the good God gave him all his troubles at first.
Do you think so?"
Maggie was looking straight in front of her across the quiet river.
"Perhaps so," she said.
Steinmetz also stared in front of him during a little silence. The
common thoughts of two minds may well be drawn together by the
contemplation of a common object. Then he turned toward her.
"It will be a happiness for him to see you," he said quietly.
Maggie ceased breaking small branches and throwing them into the river.
She ceased all movement, and scarcely seemed to breathe.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"He is staying with me here."
Maggie glanced toward the canoe. She drew a short, sharp breath, but she
did not move.
"Mademoiselle," said Steinmetz earnestly, "I am an old man, and in my
time I have dabbled pretty deeply in trouble. But taking it all around,
even my life has had its compensations. And I have seen lives which,
taken as a mere mortal existence, without looking to the hereafter at
all, have been quite worth the living. There is much happiness in life
to make up for the rest. But that happiness must be firmly held. It is
so easily slipped through the fingers.
Pages:
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449