Eustace sat perfectly still, with his eyes fixed upon Bride’s face. A quick strange thrill went through him at her words, as it had done many times before when she was speaking with him. But during these past busy weeks there had been no talk of this sort between the cousins; and Eustace felt with a sensation of surprise, and almost of exultation, how far more responsive was his heart now when such words fell on his ear, than it had been months ago—a year ago, when she had sometimes spoken in this strain, and he had smiled to himself at her mystic fanaticism.
She had certainly come gradually to a clearer appreciation of what was going on in the world, and to a juster estimate of the good and the evil of the movements of the day. He often felt her increased power of sympathy and comprehension, and rejoiced in it; but had he too changed on his side, and were they really growing nearer together in all things? He no longer felt disposed to smile when she spoke words like these; rather he longed for her purity of faith and singleness of heart, and felt that she possessed a reserve of power and strength that was in many respects greater than his own. Where he would be led away by self-interest, she would see with perfect clearness of vision. Where he would be influenced by a partisan spirit to fail in discrimination, and adopt the evil with the good without analysis or reflection, she would detect at once all that was impure and unworthy, and refuse contact with it, even at the price of personal loss. It was, perhaps, impossible for a man in the vortex of political life and a keen party struggle to keep his heart perfectly pure, and always be found on the side of right, and the opponent of wrong in every phase; but at least she had inspired him with this desire as he had never known it before; and he began to understand—what once he would not have believed—that she gained this insight and this purity of heart and motive through the workings of that spiritual nature which had been such a perplexity to him before.
“Bride,” he said at last, in a strange voice, which he hardly knew for his own, “you almost persuade me to ask for that power of vision myself.”
Her eyes lighted with a strange radiance, though they were not turned to him, but out over the sea.
“I think it is never asked in vain,” she said softly, “if it is asked in humble repentant faith.”
“You will have to teach me, Bride, for I am very ignorant in all these things.”
“I cannot teach you,” she answered softly, “though, perhaps, I can help you with my prayers. Only the Spirit of God can guide you into all truth. He will lead you to the cross of the Crucified One first, and then by gradual steps to the knowledge of the Risen, the Ascended, the Glorified Lord, for whose bright and glorious coming we and all creation are waiting in patient confidence and joyful hope.”
He was silent. He could not follow her yet into these regions, but faint stirrings of the desire to do so were working in him. Once he had thought, “I must draw her down to earth and my level;” now, the unconscious aspiration of his mind was, “Would that I might follow her there!” But all he said was—
“Do you pray for me, then, Bride?”
“Always,” she answered softly; and although Eustace went in having spoken no word of love (as he had almost intended at the outset), he felt that he and Bride had never been so near together as at that moment.