"Christie 's growing handsome," David would say to his mother, as if
she was a flower in which he took pride.
"Thee is a good gardener, Davy," the old lady would reply, and when
he was busy would watch him with a tender sort of anxiety, as if to
discover a like change in him.
But no alteration appeared, except more cheerfulness and less
silence; for now there was no need to hide his real self, and all
the social virtues in him came out delightfully after their long
solitude.
In her present uplifted state, Christie could no more help regarding
David as a martyr and admiring him for it, than she could help
mixing sentiment with her sympathy. By the light of the late
confessions, his life and character looked very different to her
now. His apparent contentment was resignation; his cheerfulness, a
manly contempt for complaint; his reserve, the modest reticence of
one who, having done a hard duty well, desires no praise for it.
Like all enthusiastic persons, Christie had a hearty admiration for
self-sacrifice and self-control; and, while she learned to see
David's virtues, she also exaggerated them, and could not do enough
to show the daily increasing esteem and respect she felt for him,
and to atone for the injustice she once did him.
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