Біла пташка

Sporting Reflections

           

           Iamsureshefeltherselfsoiled.

           Butmenareofacoarserclay.AtleastIam,andnearlytwentyyearshadelapsed,andherewasIburdenedunderaloadofaffection,likeasackofreturnedlove-letters,withnolapintowhichtodumpthem.

           “Theywereallwrittentoanotherwoman,ma’am,andyetIaminhopesthatyouwillfindsomethinginthemaboutyourself.”ItwouldhavesoundedoddlytoMary,butlifeisgraytofriendlessgirls,andsomethingmighthavecomeofit.

           Ontheotherhand,itwouldhavebroughtherforeveroutofthewoodofthelittlehut,andIhadbuttodropthelettertosendthembothbackthere.Theeasinessofittemptedme.

           Besides,shewouldtireofmewhenIwasreallyknowntoher.Theyalldo,yousee.

           And,afterall,whyshouldhelosehislaughbecauseIhadlostmysmile?

           Andthen,again,thewholethingwasmerelyawhimsicalidea.

           Idroppedtheletter,andshoulderedmyburden.

           

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Roboto Lora
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