Eva Stern

“The children slept late, and washed and dressed almost in silence. Both of them were afraid to speak. Maia packed her belongings in an old canvas bag and stroked the dog.“I’ll come over in a minute to say good-bye,” said Finn.The Carters’ boat was ready to leave, breakfast tidied away, ropes coiled. The professor was sorting out the firebox and feeding in fresh logs. Miss Minton, sitting in the stern, had a parcel wrapped in burlap on her knees.“I’m ready,” said Maia, trying to keep her voice steady. She mustn’t cry. Above all, she mustn’t sulk. “Finn’s coming over to say good-bye.”“No need,” said Miss Minton.“He’d like to.”“All the same, there is no need.”Maia looked at her governess. Miss Minton seemed different…Softer? Rounder? More at peace?“Why?” she asked. “Why is there no need?”“Because we’re coming with you. We’re going on. Get back on the and tell Finn we’ll follow three lengths behind.”As Maia turned to go, hardly believing that there could be such happiness, she heard a loud splash. Miss Minton was leaning over the side, watching the parcel she had held on her knees floating away downriver.“What was that?” asked Maia.Miss Minton straightened herself.If you know,” she said, “it was my corset.””

“Respect is better than tolerance (2) for the very obverse and complement of its sternness: It does not just “bear” the others, nor just forbear to judge them. It takes them seriously, for respect is engaged regard, even appreciative receptivity. Tolerance permits, even finds, convenient slanting glances, averted eyes; respect looks the others full in the face, hears their words.””

“Maia opened her eyes and saw a canopy of trees and, shining through the topmost leaves, a high, white sun.She could smell the rich, heady smell of orchids and hear a bird whose single piercing cry came clearly over the puttering sound of an engine.Then the overhanging trees disappeared. She was looking up at a pale, clear sky, and the light was suddenly so dazzling that she closed her eyes for a moment, because she did not want to wake up or to stop. She wanted what was happening to her to go on and on and on.She was lying on a groundsheet on the bottom of a boat. They were moving steadily through the water, not fast, not slowly; the perfect speed to lull her back to sleep. She was covered by a gray blanket. She pushed it off and saw that her leg was bandaged. It throbbed but not unpleasantly…it seemed to belong to someone else.She closed her eyes and slept again.When she woke once more, it was to find that something was resting against her side, snoring gently: a dog the color of dark sand…So then she turned her head and saw behind her Finn, sitting quietly in the stern, with his hand on the tiller--and knew she was on the and safe.””