Jean remained speechless. Miss Lorraine had never spoken with such fervour and earnestness to her before.
She added—
"Unless your life is in touch with your Saviour, it is utterly purposeless and unfruitful. A life centering round itself becomes more dwarfed and withered year by year. It is like a pool of stagnant water—no force, no freshness, no purity."
Miss Lorraine was called away. Jean sat on by that London window feeling very small indeed. She wondered dimly how she could have spoken so complacently of herself and her talents a few minutes ago. But self was deeply rooted in the inner chambers of her heart, and the shaking of her idol was not a pleasant process.
She wished Miss Lorraine "Good-night" that evening with a miserable face.
"I know you are right," she said, "and I am all wrong, but I am a very slow learner. You have shaken my foundation, and it will take time to readjust it."
The next morning, she had bidden goodbye to her friend and was being whirled down into the heart of Devonshire.
It was a lovely June day. As she looked out of the carriage window and saw the green fields, the fresh young green of the trees, and the young colts and lambs at play, the peace and rest of the country stole into her soul. She passed snowy orchards of apple-blossoms, thatched cottages and slopes of yellow buttercups and marsh marigolds; here and there a whiff of freshly-cut hay made her look about until she discovered the hayfield.
A railway journey gives time for thought and reflection. Jean came to a crisis in her life whilst she was gazing out of her window. She seemed to get a sense of God's greatness and goodness, His tender, protecting care of all His creatures, and as she dwelt on His love and power, she began to realise her own worthlessness.
Jean was slow in learning, as she said, but what she learnt, she remembered. If the unspoken prayer of her heart could have been put into words, it would have been after this fashion—