To-night, I can only pray for her, and thank God.
[CHAPTER XXXIII.]
CONFIDENTIAL IN A CAVE.
THE SAME.
June 23. Wednesday.
HERE we are again in the dear old Dale, far-away from London's busy roar.
The mountainous heights stand all around, as they have stood for ages past; and the torrent-river brawls over its rocky bed from the Dale-Head, a golden stream fast widening. The streamlets streaking the side of our beautiful Fell are slender lines of silver this dry weather. And oh, the clear sweetness of the air, after Metropolitan murkiness!
I do not undervalue our mighty City, with its wonders of intellect and thought, its heroes and sages alive and dead, its grand historical past, and I hope grander historical future, its "wealth of soul that is there." And I know well that God is as near in the most crowded City street, as in this lonely wilderness. But I think it is sometimes easier to realise His Presence here than there.
My seven weeks in Town might be seven months,—I have gone through so much in them. Now I am striving hard to live just by the day; letting a "dead past bury its dead;" not looking forward at all, except to the great Beyond; only willing hour by hour to accept what my Master gives me. Life at present does and must wear a grey hue. That I have to expect. But there are many to love and be loved by me. The more I can throw myself into others' interests, the better.
The affection of all these dear girls is very comforting. Yes;—even sweet changeable Maggie, though I cannot trust her love, as I trust Thyrza's love,—even Maggie I like to have clinging about me, with her grey eyes looking up and her soft lips pressing mine. For I am sure she means it all, just at the moment. And one must not expect to find lake-depths in a tea-cup.