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vicaragewithTomRooke.OldDulcibellaCranewent
overthelowerpartofthehousewithTom,andthe
Squirestrodeupthestairs,andstoopinghistallhead
asheenteredthedoor,walkedintothefirstroom
hemetwith,inasurlymood.
Theclatterofhisbootspreventedhishearing,till
hehadgotwellintotheroom,thelowcryingofalittle
childinacradle.Hestayedhisstepforamoment.
Hehadquiteforgottenthatunimportantbeing,and
hehalfturnedtogooutagain,butchangedhismind.
Hestoopedoverthecradle,andthelittlechild’scrying
ceased.Itwasaveryprettyfaceandlargeeyes,still
wetwithtears,thatlookedupwithanearnest
wonderinggazeathimfromoutthetinyblankets.
OldDulcibellaCranehadgonedown,andthe
solitude,nodoubt,affrightedit,andtherewas
consolationeveninthepresenceofthegrimSquire,
intowhosefacethoselargeeyeslookedwithinnocent
trust.
Whowouldhavethoughtit?Belowlaythelittle
imageofutterhumanweakness;abovestooped
astatueofinflexibilityandpower,astrongstatuewith
agrimcontractedeye.Therewasaheart,steeled
againstman’sremonstrance,andapridethatwould
haveburstintofuryatahintofreproof.Belowlaythe
merewonderandvaguenessofdumbinfancy.Could
contestbeimaginedmorehopeless!But“thefaithful
Creator,”wholovedthepoorVicar,hadbroughtthose
eyestomeet.
Thelittlechild’scryingwashushed;bigtearshung
initsgreatwonderingeyes,andthelittlefacelooked
uppaleandforlorn.Itwasagazethatlastedwhileyou
mightcountfourorfive.Butitsmysteriousworkoflove
wasdone.“AllthingsweremadebyHim,andwithout
Himwasnotanythingmadethatwasmade.”
SquireFairfieldwalkedroundthisroom,andwent
outandexaminedtheothers,andwentdownstairs
insilence,andwhenhewasgoingoutatthehall-door
hestoppedandlookedatoldDulcibellaCrane,who
