rflowing with
love towards everything in this world and in all the worlds; as if the
very grasses and the stones were clear, but dearest of all, the
creatures that still suffer, so that to wipe away their tears forever,
one feels that one would die--oh die so gladly! And always as if this
were something not our own, but part of that wonderful great Love above
us, about us, everywhere, clasping us all so tenderly and safely!"

Here her voice trembled and failed; she waited a little and then went
on, "Ah, I am too stupid to say rightly what I mean, but you who are
clever will understand.

"It was so sweet that I knelt on, drinking it in for a long time; not
praying, you know, but just resting, and feeling as if I were in heaven,
till all at once, I cannot explain why, I moved and looked round. It was
there at the other end of the room. It was ...--much worse than I had
dreaded it would be; as if it looked out of some great horror deeper
than I could understand. The loving feeling was gone, and I was
afraid--so much afraid, I only wanted to get out of sight of it. And I
think I would have gone, but it stretched out its hands to me as if it
were asking for something, and then, of course, I could not go. So,
though I was trembling a little, I went nearer and looked into its face.
And after that I was not afraid any more, I was too sorry for it; its
poor poor eyes were so full of anguish. I cried: 'Oh, why do you look at
me like that? Tell me what I shall do.'

"And directly I spoke I heard it moan. Oh, George, oh, Mr. Lyndsay, how
can I tell you what that moaning was like! Do you know how a little
change in the face of some one you love, or a little tremble in his
voice, can make you see quite clearly what nobody, not even the great
poets, had been able to show you before?

"George, do you remember the day that grandmother died, when they all
broke down and cried a little at dinner, all except Uncle Marmaduke? He
sat up looking so white and stern at the end of the table. And I,
foolish little child, thought he was not so grieved as the others--that
he did not love his mother so much. But next day, quite by chance, I
heard him, all alone, sobbing over her coffin. I remember standing
outside the door and listening, and each sob went through my heart with
a little stab, and I knew for the first time what sorrow was. But even
his sobs were not so pitiful as the moans of that poor spirit. While I
listened I learnt that in ano