Saturday, July 17, 2010

Rilla of Ingleside

Walter had come home for a week's leave before going overseas. Rilla had lived through the days of his absence on the hope of that week, and now that it had come she drank every minute of it thirstily, hating even the hours she had to spend in sleep, they seemed such a waste of precious moments. In spite of its sadness, it was a beautiful week, full of poignant, unforgettable hours, when she and Walter had long walks and talks and silences together. He was all her own and she knew that he found strength and comfort it her sympathy and understanding. It was very wonderful to know she meant so much to him -- the knowledge helped her though moments that would otherwise have been unendurable, and gave her power to smile -- and even to laugh a little. When Walter had gone she might indulge in the comfort of tears, but not while he was here.

It's a beautifully written little paragraph right? Well guess what? It's not what you might have initially thought it was. This isn't describing the sweet relationship of lovers -- but of a brother and sister. Which I think is even more beautiful.

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