His mother smiles.--Of course: who would not love to have him? Good
heart, fine boy, dear child. "It's long past bedtime. Naughty!" She
kisses him.
Herbert, a little like a horse, swings away his heavy head.
They are gone in the bell's jangle.
* * * * *
"What a good boy: what a big-hearted boy!" Meyer said aloud. "I like the
boy. He will be strong and a success, you see."
Her words, "I saw him lift the skirt of Flora and peep up," she could
not utter. She was silent, seeing the dull boy with the dirty mind, and
his mother and Meyer through love thinking him good. What she saw in her
silence hurt her.
Her hurt flowed out in fear. She saw her child: a great fear came on
Esther.--Flora is small and white, the world is full of men with thick
lips, hairy hands, of men who will lift her skirt and kiss her, of men
who will press their hairiness against her whiteness.
--There is a Magic, Love, whereby this shame is sweet. Where is it? A
world of men with hair and lips against her whiteness. Where is the
magic against them? Esther was very afraid. She hated her daughter.