‘She does not hold her son back from the cross, does she, though the sword was to pierce through her own heart?’
‘Yes; but that was for the greatest reason.’
‘Indeed, it was; but He who was a Child, the firstborn Son of His mother, does not afflict your baby without cause. He has laid on him as much of His cross as he can bear; and if it be yours also, you know that it is blessed to you both, and will turn to glory.’
‘The cross!’ said Violet; adding, after some thought, ‘Perhaps thinking of that might make one bear one’s own troubles better.’
‘The most patient person I ever knew found it so,’ said John; and with some hesitation and effort, ‘You know about her?’
‘A little,’ she timidly replied; and the tears flowed again as she said, ‘I have been so very sorry for you.’
‘Thank you,’ he answered, in a suppressed tone of grateful emotion, for never was sympathy more refreshing to one who had long mourned in loneliness.
Eager, though almost alarmed, at being thus introduced to the melancholy romance of his history, Violet thought he waited for her to speak. ‘It was dreadful,’ she said; ‘it was so cruel, to sacrifice her to those old people.’
‘Was it cruel? Was it wrong?’ said John, almost to himself. ‘I hope not. I do not think I could have decided otherwise.’
‘Oh, have I said anything wrong? I don’t properly know about it. I fancied Arthur told me—I beg your pardon.