en and gave it
to him in silence. While he read it I stood in a shadowy corner and
watched him, wondering if life could always be as sweet as this. When
he had finished he turned to me and held out his arms. I went to them
as a bird to her nest, and with his lips against mine the old feud was
blotted out forever.

The Life-Book of Uncle Jesse

Uncle Jesse! The name calls up the vision of him as I saw him so often
in those two enchanted summers at Golden Gate; as I saw him the first
time, when he stood in the open doorway of the little low-eaved
cottage on the harbour shore, welcoming us to our new domicile with
the gentle, unconscious courtesy that became him so well. A tall,
ungainly figure, somewhat stooped, yet suggestive of great strength
and endurance; a clean-shaven old face deeply lined and bronzed; a
thick mane of iron-grey hair falling quite to his shoulders; and a
pair of remarkably blue, deep-set eyes, which sometimes twinkled and
sometimes dreamed, but oftener looked out seaward with a wistful
question in them, as of one seeking something precious and lost. I was
to learn one day what it was for which Uncle Jesse looked.

It cannot be denied that Uncle Jesse was a homely man. His spare jaws,
rugged mouth, and square brow were not fashioned on the lines of
beauty, but though at first sight you thought him plain you never
thought anything more about it--the spirit shining through that rugged
tenement beautified it so wholly.

Uncle Jesse was quite keenly aware of his lack of outward comeliness
and lamented it, for he was a passionate worshipper of beauty in
everything. He told Mother once that he'd rather like to be made over
again and made handsome.

"Folks say I'm good," he remarked whimsically, "but I sometimes wish
the Lord had made me only half as good and put the rest of it into
looks. But I reckon He knew what He was about, as a good Captain
should. Some of us have to be homely or the purty ones--like Miss Mary
there--wouldn't show up so well."

I was not in the least pretty but Uncle Jesse was always telling me I
was--and I loved him for it. He told the fib so prettily and sincerely
that he almost made me believe it for the time being, and I really
think he believed it himself. All women were lovely and of good report
in his eyes, because of one he had loved. The only time I ever saw
Uncle Jesse really angered was when someone in his hearing cast an
aspersion on the character of a shore