“To trust in God is to be sane—have peace,” he answered.
“Ah, peace!” she answered greedily. “What does it mean? I know no peace—nothing but the mocking, cruel voice that says ‘Go on!’ and shows no way.”
“It’s the stone, Rosalie, that stands in your light, and blocks the way. Can’t you see it?”
“I expect I’m very blind. I’m not clever enough to understand. I haven’t spirit enough to find a way out. Mr. Barringcourt told me so, and he knew best. I was handicapped from the beginning to be born without a tongue.”
“But that difficulty, and still another, has been surmounted.”
“Yes, but I did nothing myself.”
“Fiddlesticks!” said the Governor, and he spoke so naturally that Rosalie laughed, even though not particularly brightly.
“Well, I didn’t do much myself. I don’t see how I could.”
“You did as much as was necessary, which is never in any case very much; and now there is one little thing more to be done—give it up.”
“I dare not,” she said; “it would send me mad. If it would kill me I wouldn’t mind.” And she looked down to hide the light in her eyes.