that he was a chosen vessel marked out for glory, she had
persuaded herself utterly; and the persuasion grew in her day by day,
as she heard more and more of his cleverness, honesty, and kindliness,
mysterious and, to her, miraculous learning. Therefore she did not
make haste; she did not even try to see him, or to speak to him;
a civil bow in passing was all that she took or gave; and she was
content with that, and waited till the time came, when she was
destined to do for him--what she knew not; but it would be done if she
were strong enough. So she set herself to learn, and read, and trained
her mind and temper more earnestly than ever, and waited in patience
for God's good time. And now, behold, a black, unfathomable gulf of
doubt and shame had opened between them, perhaps for ever. And a
tumult arose in her soul, which cannot be, perhaps ought not to be,
analysed in words; but which made her know too well, by her own
crimson cheeks, that it was none other than human love strong as
death, and jealousy cruel as the grave.

At last long and agonising prayer brought gentler thoughts, and mere
physical exhaustion a calmer mood. How wicked she had been; how
rebellious! Why not forgive him, as One greater than she had forgiven?
It was ungrateful of him; but was he not human? Why should she expect
his heart to be better than hers? Besides, he might have excuses for
his suspicion. He might be the best judge, being a man, and such a
clever one too. Yes; it was God's cross, and she would bear it; she
would try and forget him. No; that was impossible; she must hear of
him, if not see him, day by day: besides, was not her fate linked up
with his? And yet shut out from him by that dark wall of suspicion! It
was very bitter. But she could pray for him; she would pray for him
now. Yes; it was God's cross, and she would bear it. He would right
her if He thought fit; and if not, what matter? Was she not born to
sorrow? Should she complain if another drop, and that the bitterest of
all, was added to the cup?

And bear her cross she did, about with her, coming in, and going out,
for many a weary day. There was no change in her habits or demeanour;
she was never listless for a moment in her school; she was more gay
and amusing than ever, when she gathered her little ones around her
for a story: but still there was the unseen burden, grinding her heart
slowly, till she felt as if every footstep was stained with a drop of
her heart's