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"Donal Grant, by George MacDonald"

He
dared not think what he dreaded, but he would trust nothing but
seeing her with his own eyes, and hearing from her own mouth that
all was well--which could not be, else why should his mother have
sent him to her? Doubtless the way would unfold before him as he
went on; but if everything should seem to go against him, he would
yet say with sir Philip Sidney that, "since a man is bound no
farther to himself than to do wisely, chance is only to trouble them
that stand upon chance." If his plans or attempts should one after
the other fail, "there's a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew
them how we will"! So he rode on, careful over his mare, lest much
haste should be little speed. The animal was strong and in good
condition, and by the time Donal had seen the sun rise, ascend the
heavens, and go half-way down their western slope, and had stopped
three times to refresh the mare, he found himself, after much
climbing and descent, on a good level road that promised by
nightfall to bring him to the place of his desire.
But the mare was now getting tired, and no wonder, for she had had
more than a hard day's work. Donal dismounted every now and then to
relieve her, that he might go the faster when he mounted again,
comforting himself that in the true path the delays are as important
as the speed; for the hour is the point, not the swiftness: an hour
too soon may even be more disastrous than an hour too late! He would
arrive at the right time for him whose ways are not as our ways
inasmuch as they are greatly better! The sun went down and the stars
came out, and the long twilight began.


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