Tears
sprang into Miss Alcott's eyes, and she walked to the other side of the
room. The boy did not know what to say or do, so he sat silent. With
a deliberate movement Emerson resumed his seat, and slowly his eyes
roamed over the boy sitting at the side of the desk. He felt he should
say something.
"I thought, perhaps, Mr. Emerson," he said, "that you might be able to
favor me with a letter from Carlyle."
At the mention of the name Carlyle his eyes lifted, and he asked:
"Carlyle, did you say, sir, Carlyle?"
"Yes," said the boy, "Thomas Carlyle."
"Ye-es," Emerson answered slowly. "To be sure, Carlyle. Yes, he was
here this morning. He will be here again to-morrow morning," he added
gleefully, almost like a child.
Then suddenly: "You were saying----"
Edward repeated his request.
"Oh, I think so, I think so," said Emerson, to the boy's astonishment.
"Let me see. Yes, here in this drawer I have many letters from
Carlyle."
At these words Miss Alcott came from the other part of the room, her
wet eyes dancing with pleasure and her face wreathed in smiles.
Pages:
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103