I came to feel
the only friendly things in all this hostile, cruel place were the
robins that hopped boldly over the monstrous terraces and even up to the
windows of the unsightly house itself. The robins alone knew joy; they
danced, believing no evil thing was possible in all God's radiant world.
They believed in everybody; their god's plan of life had no room in it
for hell, damnation, and lakes of brimstone. I came to love the little
birds. Had Samuel Franklyn known them, he might have preached a
different sermon, bequeathing love in place of terror!
Most of my time I spent writing; but it was a pretence at best, and
rather a dangerous one besides. For it stirred the mind to production,
with the result that other things came pouring in as well. With reading
it was the same. In the end I found an aggressive, deliberate resistance
to be the only way of feasible defense. To walk far afield was out of
the question, for it meant leaving my sister too long alone, so that my
exercise was confined to nearer home. My saunters in the grounds,
however, never surprised the goblin garden again. It was close at hand,
but I seemed unable to get wholly into it. Too many things assailed my
mind for any one to hold exclusive possession, perhaps.
Pages:
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134