EPILOGUE
My task is done—not brilliantly, not at all brilliantly, but to the best of my poor ability, and I turn away from the thought of this world's little criticisms, which may assail and rend my work, to the consideration of how it looks in my own eyes, how it would look in the serious eyes of Lady Jane, if she surveyed it all as searchingly as she studied her beloved Plato; and lastly, and most importantly, how it may appear in the eyes of our Heavenly Father.
And first, as to myself, I have sighed, smiled, and then again wept over these pages, as in them I relived through the exciting, tragic happenings of the year of my life which changed me from a thoughtless child into an extremely earnest-hearted woman, and I think, as the record has taken such deep hold of me, it will also impress others, and know that it will do so in proportion to the greatness of their souls. For little souls find only small things everywhere, whilst big ones, like my Lady Jane's, find things so great and glorious as to lift them over life's petty details into the vast, wide prospects of the children of God, who see from the Delectable Mountains straight into the Heart of the Kingdom.
As to the way in which Lady Jane would regard this book were she looking at it, I have no fear. She would see that I have in every respect endeavoured to fulfil her wish that I should represent facts as I saw them, and not as they appeared to be to others.
And with regard to the aspect my poor little work has in the eyes of our Heavenly Father, it is impossible to know. I can only pray Him to mercifully grant that what is false and unworthy in this narrative may be forgotten, whilst what is good, true and beautiful, may sink deeply into the hearts of its hearers, and always, always be remembered as long as life shall last.
MARGARET BROWN.