Let it be; perhaps there was such a
place,--why not?--fitted for St. Dorothea, and those cut off in youth
like her; and other places fit for such as he. And he spoke more
tenderly than usual (though he was never untender), as he said,--
"And you feel better to-day? I am sure you must, with such a kind
friend, to tell you such sweet tales."
"I do not feel better, thank you. And why should I wish to do so? You
all take too much trouble about me; why do you want to keep me here?"
"We are loth to lose you; and besides, while you can be kept here, it
is a sign that you ought to be here."
"So Grace tells me. Yes, I will be patient, and wait till He has done
His work. I am more patient now; am I not, Grace?" And she fondled
Grace's hand, and looked up in her face.
"Yes," said Grace, who was standing near, with downcast face, trying
to avoid Tom's eye. "Yes, you are very good; but you must not talk:"
but the girl went on, with kindling eye,--
"Ah--I was very fretful at first, because I could not go to heaven
at once: but Grace showed me how it was good to be here, as well
as there, as long as He thought that I might be made perfect by
sufferings. And since then, my pain has become quite pleasant to me,
and I am ready to wait and bear--wait and bear."
"You must not talk,--see, you are beginning to cough," said Tom, who
wished somehow to stop a form of thought which so utterly puzzled him.
Not that he had not heard it before; commonplace enough indeed it is,
thank God: but that day the words came home to him with spirit and
power, all the more solemnly from their contrast with the scene
around--without, all sunshine, joy, and glory: all which could tempt
a human being to linger here: and within, that young girl longing to
leave it all, and yet content to stay and suffer.
Pages:
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384