Out of
this conspiracy of marsh and mirage, what vile things might not
issue! Over such a chaos the devil has power all but creative. He
cannot in truth create, but he can with the degenerate created work
moral horrors too hideous to be analogized by any of the horrors of
the unperfected animal world. Such are being constantly produced in
human society; many of them die in the darkness in which they are
generated; now and then one issues, blasting the public day with its
hideous glare. Because they are seldom seen, many deny they exist,
or need be spoken of if they do. But to terrify a man at the
possibilities of his neglected nature, is to do something towards
the redemption of that nature.
School-hours were over, but Davie was seated where he had left him,
still working. At sight of him Donal, feeling as if he had just come
from the presence of the damned, almost burst into tears. A moment
more and Arctura entered: it was as if the roof of hell gave way,
and the blue sky of the eternal came pouring in heavenly deluge
through the ruined vault.
"I have been to call upon Sophia," she said.
"I am glad to hear it," answered Donal: any news from an outer world
of yet salvable humanity was welcome as summer to a land of ice.
"Yes," she said; "I am able to go and see her now, because I am no
longer afraid of her--partly, I think, because I no longer care what
she thinks of me.
Pages:
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496