" Uncle Tom fell into the same way. The kinship between us was
strengthened by these endearments.
But I observed something of deeper, more mystical import; Reverdy was
attached to Isabel with an intense and curious filial passion. He would
rush into the room and kiss Isabel, flinging his arms about her with
ecstatic joy. She evoked this demonstration in some secret, maternal
way. And now as I tried to remember I could not recall that Dorothy had
ever caressed Reverdy--not that she was cold toward him. She was the
soul of kindness. But whenever had she held him to her breast with
demonstrative heart-hunger and expression; whenever had she played with
him, walked with him, entered into his life of game or studies? She had
never done so. Perhaps Reverdy had never had a mother after all. Now he
had one in Isabel, who seemed to direct something of the energy that she
had channeled into art and into travel to this boy of mine. But she did
not in any way withdraw her interest from me.
I was wondering after our day at the Villa d'Este if she would place
herself again in a like intimacy with me, if we should go about together
as before. No, there was no change as to program; but her eyes were so
clear, so innocently bright, her smile and laugh so gentle, yet free of
direct invitation, above all her devotion to Uncle Tom was so noble,
that I felt loath to make my approach more intimate.
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