"I'll lean against this pear-tree," he said. "It's young and
strong, and owes me a good turn. Now, my child, tell me what you
think best, and then I'll tell you of One whose word and touch
cures every trouble."
But poor Ida had sudden and strong misgivings. As she saw the
old gentleman surrounded by his flowers and fruits, as she glanced
hesitatingly into his serene, quiet face, from which the fire and
passion of youth had long since faded, she thought. "So Adam might
have looked had he never sinned but grown old in his beautiful
garden. This aged man, who lives nearer heaven than earth, can't
understand my wicked, passionate heart. My story will only shock
and pain him, and it's a shame to pollute this place with such a
story."
"You spoke as if you were alone and friendless in the world," said
Mr. Eltinge, trying to help her make a beginning. "Are you an
orphan?"
"No," said Ida, with rising color, and averting her face. "My
parents are both living."
"And yet you cannot go to them? Poor child! That is the worst
kind of orphanage."
"Oh, Mr. Eltinge, this place seems like the garden of Eden, and I
am bringing into it a heart full of trouble and wickedness.
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