s the pure mind we set to perceive. The
God discerned in thought is another than he of the senses. And let the
prayer be as a little fountain. Rising on a spout, from dread of the
hollow below, the prayer may be prolonged in words begetting words, and
have a pulse of fervour: the spirit of it has fallen after the first
jet. That is the delirious energy of our craving, which has no life
in our souls. We do not get to any heaven by renouncing the Mother we
spring from; and when there is an eternal secret for us, it is befit
to believe that Earth knows, to keep near her, even in our utmost
aspirations.
Weyburn still knelt. He was warned to quit the formal posture of an
exhausted act by the thought, that he had come to reflect upon how he
might be useful to his boys in a like calamity.
Having risen, he became aware, that for some time of his kneeling
Aminta's hand had been on his head, and they had raised their souls
in unison. It was a soul's link. They gazed together on the calm, rapt
features. They passed from the room.
'I cannot thank you,' he said.
'Oh no; I have the reason for gratitude,' said she. 'I have learnt to
know and love her, and hope I may imitate when my time is near.'
"She.... at the last?'
'Peacefully; no pain. The breath had not left her very long before you
came.'
'I said I cannot; but I must--
'Do not.'
'Not in speech, then.'
They went into the tasteful little sitting-room below, where the
stillness closed upon them as a consciousness of loss.
'You have comforted her each day,' he said.
'It has been my one happiness.'
'I could not wish for better than for her to have known you.'
'Say that for me. I have gained. She left her last words for you with
me. They were love, love... pride in her son: thanks to God for having
been thought worthy to give him birth.'
'She was one of the noble women of earth.'
'She was your mother. Let me not speak any more. I think I will now go.
I am rarely given to these--'
The big drops were falling.
'You have not ordered your carriage?'
'It brings me here. I find my way home.'
'Alone?'
'I like the independence.'
'At night, too!'
'Nothing harmed me. Now it is daylight. A letter arrived for you from
High Brent this morning. I forgot to bring it. Yesterday two of your
pupils called here. Martha saw them.'
Her naming of the old servant familiarly melted him. 'You will not bear
to hear praise or thanks.'
'If I deserved t
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