There were two boys and two girls at the Manse and they
had a father and a mother. These things were enough for a new heaven
and a new earth to form themselves around. The centre of the whole
Universe was Donal with his strength and his laugh and his eyes
which were so alive and glowing that she seemed always to see them.
She knew nothing about the thing which was their somehow--not-to-be-denied
allure. They were ASKING eyes--and eyes which gave. The boy was
in truth a splendid creature. His body and beauty were perfect life
and joyous perfect living. His eyes asked other eyes for everything.
"Tell me more," they said. "Tell me more! Like me! Answer me! Let
us give each other everything in the world." He had always been
well, he had always been happy, he had always been praised and
loved. He had known no other things.
During the first week in which the two children played together,
his mother, whose intense desire it was to understand him, observed
in him a certain absorption of mood when he was not talking or
amusing himself actively. He began to fall into a habit of standing
at the windows, often with his chin in his hand, looking out as if
he were so full of thought that he saw nothing. It was not an old
habit, it was a new one.
"What are you thinking about, Donal?" she asked one afternoon.
He seemed to awaken, as it were, when he heard her.
Pages:
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126