Mr.
Thane tells me that if the wells on this road were as many as the deaths
by violence have been, we might be pasturing our horses in green fields at
night, instead of increasing their load with the weight of their food as
well as our own. Yes, it is a 'desolate land and lone;' and if we build our
fountain, according to my first intention, in the form of a cross, blessing
and shadowing the water, it must be a rude and massive one, such as humble
shepherds or herdsmen might accidentally have fashioned in the dark days
before its power and significance were known. It will be all the more
enduring, and the text shall be"--
"Uncle," cried Daphne in a smothered voice, "never mind the text! _I_ am
your text! Listen to me! If your cross stood there now, here is the one
who should be in the dust before it!" She pressed her open hand upon her
breast.
The gesture, her emphasis, the extreme figure of speech she had used, were
repellent to Mr. Withers over and above his amazement at her words. As he
had not been observing her, he was totally unprepared for such an outburst.
"Daphne, my dear! Do I understand you? I cannot conceive"--
But Daphne could not wait for her meaning to sink in.
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