"Whatever you may have done, James, it will certainly end the right course when all is through. Certain acts are unexplainable in action, yet fully comprehendible when complete. No sense to be a fright in discovering the correct path when such destinies are unclear. Live. Breathe, son."
The speaker poured Mr. Norrington, who had yet to raise his eyes, a warm cup of tea.
"You are so much yourself now as when you were but a young boy, James," he said, laughing. "Not everyone can be pleased- it is a manner of life. How many times must I deliver such headlining news!? He continued on his laughing fit.
"Always once more," Mr. Swann. "You must know by now how it goodly affects my character's views." He allowed the fighting smile to play on the wonderful corners of his lips.
"Weatherby," chimed the Governor. "You know that." James' eyes rolled and Swann continued.
"Do you remember, you were but ten years old? A poor child, in the market, she'd stolen a loaf of bread from a local vender. You'd seen her starving eyes and witnessed the act of thievery clearly though you said not a word. And days later, after your political conscience had gotten the better of you, you had come crying to me filled with details and hidden emotions. It was the right act."
James nodded. He felt his heart flooding with similar emotions and laid his head upon his forearm.
"I remember, Weatherby."