Your Uncle Benn and you--it was so with you,
was it not? You heard his voice speaking to you sometimes; you understood
what he meant to say to you? You told me so long ago."
David inclined his head. "I heard him speak as one might speak through a
closed door. Sometimes, too, in the desert I have heard Faith speak to
me."
"And your grandfather?"
"Never my grandfather--never. It would seem as though, in my thoughts, I
could never reach him; as though masses of opaque things lay between. Yet
he and I--there is love between us. I don't know why I never hear him."
"Tell me of your childhood, of your mother. I have seen her grave under
the ash by the Meeting-house, but I want to know of her from you."
"Has not Faith told you?"
"We have only talked of the present. I could not ask her; but I can ask
you. I want to know of your mother and you together."
"We were never together. When I opened my eyes she closed hers. It was so
little to get for the life she gave. See, was it not a good face?" He
drew from his pocket a little locket which Faith had given him years ago,
and opened it before her.
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