But it was spring with the summer at hand; they hoped she
would recover sufficiently to be removed to a fitter climate. She
did not herself think so. She had hardly a doubt that her time was
come. She was calm, often cheerful, but her spirits were variable.
Donal's heart was sorer than he had thought it could be again.
One day, having been reading a little to her, he sat looking at her.
He did not know how sad was the expression of his countenance. She
looked up, smiled, and said,
"You think I am unhappy!--you could not look at me like that if you
did not think so! I am only tired; I am not unhappy. I hardly know
now what unhappiness is! If ever I look as if I were unhappy, it is
only that I am waiting for more life. It is on the way; I feel it
is, because I am so content with everything; I would have nothing
other than it is. It is very hard for God that his children will not
trust him to do with them what he pleases! I am sure, Mr. Grant, the
world is all wrong, and on the way to be all wondrously right. It
will cost God much labour yet: we will cost him as little as we
can--won't we?--Oh, Mr. Grant, if it hadn't been for you, God would
have been far away still! For a God I should have had something half
an idol, half a commonplace tyrant! I should never have dreamed of
the glory of God!"
"No, my lady!" returned Donal; "if God had not sent me, he would
have sent somebody else; you were ready!"
"I am very glad he sent you! I should never have loved any other so
much!"
Donal's eyes filled with tears.
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