This conclusion was so patent to every one of his neighbours that nobody dreamed of questioning it. Morally speaking, there is no blindness so hopelessly incurable as that of the man who is determined to keep his eyes shut. Only the Great Physician can heal such a case as this, and He has often to do it by painful means.
“Christ save you!” said Isel, coming into the anchorhold one evening, a fortnight after Stephen’s disappearance. “Well, you do look quiet and peaceful for sure! and I’m that tired!—”
“Mother, I am afraid you miss me sadly,” responded Derette, almost self-reproachfully.
“I’m pleased enough to think you’re out of it, child. Miss you? Well, I suppose I do; but I haven’t scarce time to think what I miss. There’s one thing I’d miss with very great willingness, I can tell you, and that’s that horrid tease, Anania. She’s been at me now every day this week, and she will make me tell her where Stephen is, and what he’s gone after,—and that broom knows as much as I do. She grinds the life out of me, pretty nigh: and what am I to do?”
Derette smiled sympathetically. Leuesa said—
“It does seem strange he should stay so long away.”
“Anania will have it he is never coming again.”
“I dare say she is right there,” said Derette suddenly.
“Saints alive! what dost thou mean, child? Never coming again?”
“I shouldn’t wonder,” said Derette quietly.