Her mother
thought she would be an imbecile, the Grubbs treated her as one, and
nobody cared to find out what she really was or could be.'
'Her brain had been writ upon by the "moving finger,"' quoted Mary,
'though the writing was not graved so deep but that love and science
could erase it. You remember the four lines in Omar Khayyam?
"'The moving finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your piety nor wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a line,
Nor all your tears wash out a word of it."'
'Edith says I will hardly know her,' said Rhoda.
'It is true. The new physician is a genius, and physically and
outwardly she has changed more in the last three months than in the
preceding year. She dresses herself neatly now, braids her own hair,
and ties her ribbons prettily. Edith has kept up her gymnastics, and
even taught her to row and play nine-pins. For the first time in my
life, Rhoda, I can fully understand a mother's passion for a
crippled, or a blind, or a defective child. I suppose it was only
Lisa's desperate need that drew us to her at first. We all loved and
pitied her, even at the very height of her affliction; but now she
fascinates me. I know no greater pleasure than the daily miracle of
her growth.
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