I mean exactly what I said in telling you that she has
her own very strong views of the boy's training and surroundings.
They may be ridiculous but that sort of thing need not trouble
you."
Feather held up her hand and actually laughed.
"If Robin meets him in ten years from now-THAT for her very strong
views of his training and surroundings!"
And she snapped her fingers.
Mrs. Muir's distaste for her son's unavoidable connection the man
he might succeed had a firm foundation. She had been brought up in
a Scottish Manse where her father dominated as an omnipotent and
almost divine authority. As a child of imagination she had not been
happy but she had been obedient. In her girlhood she had varied
from type through her marriage with a young man who was a dreamer,
an advanced thinker, an impassioned Greek scholar and a lover
of beauty. After he had from her terrors of damnation, they had
been profoundly happy. They were young and at ease and they read
and thought together ardently. They explored new creeds and cults
and sometimes found themselves talking nonsense and sometimes
discovering untrodden paths of wisdom. They were youthful enough
to be solemn about things at times, and clever enough to laugh
at their solemnity when they awakened to it. Helen Muir left the
reverent gloom of the life at the Manse far behind despite her
respect for certain meanings they beclouded.
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