Белая птичка
David and I Set Forth Upon a Journey
”
Heavenhelpallmothersiftheybenotreallydears,fortheirboywillcertainlyknowitinthatstrangeshorthourofthedaywheneverymotherstandsrevealedbeforeherlittleson.Thatdreadhourticksbetweensixandseven;whenchildrengotobedlatertherevelationhasceasedtocome.Heislaptinforthenightnowandliesquietlythere,madam,withgreat,mysteriouseyesfixeduponhismother.Heissummingupyourday.Nothingintherevelationsthatkeptyoutogetherandyetapartinplaytimecansaveyounow;youtwoareofnoage,noexperienceoflifeseparatesyou;itistheboy’shour,andyouhavecomeupforjudgment.“HaveIdonewellto-day,myson?”Youhavegottosayit,andnothingmayyouhidefromhim;heknowsall.Howlikeyourvoicehasgrowntohis,butmoretremulous,andbothsosolemn,sounlikethevoiceofeitherofyoubyday.
“Youwerealittleunjusttometo-dayabouttheapple;wereyounot,mother?”
Standthere,woman,bythefootofthebedandcrossyourhandsandanswerhim.
“Yes,myson,Iwas.Ithought—”
Butwhatyouthoughtwillnotaffecttheverdict.
“Wasitfair,mother,tosaythatIcouldstayouttillsix,andthenpretenditwassixbeforeitwasquitesix?”
“No,itwasveryunfair.Ithought—”
“WouldithavebeenalieifIhadsaiditwasquitesix?”
“Oh,myson,myson!Ishallnevertellyoualieagain.”
“No,mother,pleasedon’t.”
“Myboy,haveIdonewellto-dayonthewhole?”
Supposehewereunabletosayyes.
Thesearethemerestpeccadilloes,youmaysay.
