human
If it were not so late, said he, approaching the door,
gpt
I would ask you for one of your interesting legends, Miss Thusa, but by the long shadow of the well-sweep on the grass, the sun must be almost down. Why do you never come to see us now? My mother would give you a cordial welcome.
human
That's right. I love to hear you call her mother, Louis. She is worthy of the name. She is a lady, a noble hearted lady, that honored the family by coming into it; and they who wouldn't own her, disgrace themselves, not her. Go among the poor, _if_ you want to know her worth. Hear _them_ talk--but as for my stories, I never can tell them, if there is a scoffing tongue, and an unbelieving ear close by. I cannot feel my _gift_. I cannot glorify the Lord who gave it. When Helen comes, bring her to me, for I've something to tell her that I mustn't carry to my grave. The blind child, too, I should like to see her again. I would give one of my eyes now, to put sight into hers--both of them, I might say, for I shan't use them much longer.
gpt
Why, Miss Thusa, you are a _powerful_ woman yet, said Louis, measuring her erect and commanding figure, with an upward glance.
human
I shouldn't wonder if you lived to preside at all our funerals. I don't think you ever can grow weak and infirm.
gpt
There's weakness and infirmity coming on, said she,
human
Ah! Miss Thusa, how unjust you are. _I_ shall bewail you; and, as for Helen, I do believe the sweet, tender-hearted soul would cry her eyes out. Even the lovely, blind Alice would weep for your loss. And Mittie--but it seems to me you are not quite kind to Mittie. I should think you had too much magnanimity to remember the idle pranks of childhood against any one. Why, see what a handsome, glorious looking girl she is now.