But while the
blast continued they dared not pursue their hunt. It kept on in fits
and gusts till the squall ceased--as suddenly almost as it had
burst. The sky cleared, and the sun shone as a March sun can. But
the blundering blasts and the swan-shot of the flying hail were all
about still.
"When the storm is upon us," remarked Donal, as they rose from their
crouching position, "it seems as if there never could be sunshine
more; but our hopelessness does not keep back the sun when his hour
to shine is come."
"I understand!" said Arctura: "when one is miserable, misery seems
the law of being; and in the midst of it dwells some thought which
nothing can ever set right! All at once it is gone, broken up and
gone, like that hail-cloud. It just looks its own foolishness and
vanishes."
"Do you know why things so often come right?" said Donal. "--I would
say always come right, but that is matter of faith, not sight."
Arctura did not answer at once.
"I think I know what you are thinking," she said, "but I want to
hear you answer your own question."
"Why do things come right so often, do you think, Davie?" repeated
Donal.
"Is it," returned Davie, "because they were made right to begin
with?"
"There is much in that, Davie; but there is a better reason than
that. It is because things are alive, and the life at the heart of
them, that which keeps them going, is the great, beautiful God.
Pages:
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340