Elliott; and the bread? Can't you see nothin' at all? I hope you
will excuse her, Mr. Elliott, fur she sometimes furgits though she did
go to school for two years over at Dry Fork."
Tom begged her not to worry about him. He was nearing that stage when
physical appetite is forgotten, when our entire nature, faults, virtues,
all littlenesses and greater qualities, are thrown into a heap to feed
the bonfire of love. An old man may love like a fool, but the boy loves
like a hero. The old man who believes that he is loved by a girl is a
reveler in the debauchery of his own vanity. With an egotism unknown to
youth, he believes. The "sweet thing" tells him with an air of wisdom
that she could not love youth, that it is but an animated folly, and he
believes her. But the boy is uncertain and doubts himself. His love,
instead of inspiring confidence within his own breast, inhabits his
heart with the ghost of fear. The old man talks platitudes and knows
that he is convincing. The boy stammers his devotion and feels that he
has failed.
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