picked up the middling, and as he looked her squarely in the eye,
with a humorous light in his, he nodded at the pieces of bacon by
the entrance.

"Hang one of those," he said, "if you've a mind."

As he lifted the middling high, Gabriella noticed above his big red
hands a pair of arms like marble for lustre and whiteness (for he
had his sleeves rolled far back)--as massive a pair of man's arms
as ever were formed by life-long health and a life-long labor and
life-long right living.

"Thank you," she said, retreating through the door. "It's all very
interesting. I have never lived in the country before. Your mother
told me you were working here, and I asked her to let me come and
look on. While I have been living in your neighborhood, you have
been living in my town. I hope you will come to see me, and tell me
a great deal."

As she said this, David perceived that she, standing behind his
mother, looked at him with the veiled intention of saying far more.
He had such an instinct for truth himself, that truth in others was
bare to him. Those gentle, sympathetic eyes seemed to declare: "I
know about your troubles. I am the person for whom, without knowing
it, you have been looking. With me you can break silence about the
great things. We can meet far above the level of such poor scenes
as this. I have sought you to tell you this. Come."

"Mother," said David that evening, after his father had left the
table, dropping his knife and fork and forgetting to eat, "who was