Vaguely he thought of its
ships of steel, its railroads and its flaming mills, its miracles, its
prodigies. And the picture rose in his mind of a child, standing there of
giant's size with dangerous playthings in its hands, and boastfully
declaring,
"I can thunder over the earth, dive in the ocean, soar on the clouds! I can
shiver to atoms a mountain, I can drench whole lands with blood! I can look
up and laugh at God!"
And Roger frowned as he read the news. What strange new century lay ahead?
What convulsing throes of change? What was in store for his children?
Tighter set his heavy jaw.
"It shall be good," he told himself with a grim determination. "For them
there shall be better things. Something great and splendid shall come out
of it at last. They will look back upon this time as I look on the French
Revolution."
He tried to peer into that world ahead, dazzling, distant as the sun. But
then with a sigh he returned to the news, and little by little his mind
again was gripped and held by the most compelling of all appeals so far
revealed in humanity's growth, the appeal of war to the mind of a man. He
frowned as he read, but he read on. Why didn't England send over more men?
The clock struck nine.
"Now, George. Now, Elizabeth," Edith said. With the usual delay and
reluctance the children brought their work to an end, kissed their mother
and went up to bed. And Edith continued sewing.
Pages:
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244