noon
The wounded man smiled through his pain . Raising her tear-stained face at last , Sister Wynfreda said humbly , `` God pardon me if I sin in my grief , but to me it seems so bitter a thing when trouble comes upon the young . The first fall of the young bird in its flight , the first blow that startles the young horse , -- I flinch before them as before my own wounds . When the light of the fair young day dies before the noon , I feel the shadow in my heart ; and it saddens me to find a flower that worms have eaten in the bud and robbed of its brief life in the sun . How much more , then , shall I grieve for the blighting of this human flower ? I declare with truth that the first time I saw her my heart went out to her in a love which taught me how mothers feel . Her freshness and gladness have fed my starved heart like wine .