success. In his room, over Latin and botany, at her own home, over
history and the boxes of coins, he and Esther daily spent a good deal
of time together. They were pleasant enough hours to him; but to her
they were sources of life-giving nourishment and delight. The girl had
been leading a forlorn existence; mentally in a desert and alone; and,
added to that, with an unappeased longing for her departed mother, and
silent, quiet, wearing grief for the loss of her. Even now, her
features often settled into the dulness which had so struck Dallas; but
gradually there was a lightening and lifting of the cloud: when
studying she was wholly intent on her business, and when talking or
reciting or examining flowers there was a play of life and thought and
feeling in her face which was a constant study to her young teacher, as
well as pleasure, for the change was his work. He read indications of
strong capacity; he saw the tokens of rare sensitiveness and delicacy;
he saw there was a power of feeling as well as a capacity for suffering
covered by the quiet composure and reserve of manner and habit which,
he knew, were rather signs of the depth of that which they covered.
Esther interested him. And then, she was so simply upright and honest,
and so noble in all her thoughts, so high-bred by nature as well as
education, that her young teacher's estimation constantly grew, and to
interest was soon added liking. He had half expected that when the
novelty was off the pleasure of study would be found to falter; but it
was no such matter. Esther studied as honestly as if she had been a
fifth form boy at a good school; with a delight in it which boys at
school, in any form, rarely bring to their work. She studied
absorbedly, eagerly, persistently; whatever pleasure she might get by
the way, she was plainly bent on learning; and she learned of course
fast. And in the botanical studies they carried on together, and in the
historical studies which had the coins for an illumination, the child
showed as keen enjoyment as other girls of her age are wont to feel in
a story-book or in games and plays. Of games and plays Esther knew
nothing; she had no young companions, and never had known any; her
intercourse had been almost solely with father and mother, and now only
the father was left to her. She would have been in danger of growing
morbid in her sorrow and loneliness, and her whole nature might have
been permanently and without remedy dwarfed