It must be said for Susanna that she had never ceased laboring in her own way for many days. The truth was that she felt herself turning from marriage. She had lived now so long in the society of men and women who regarded it as an institution not compatible with the highest spiritual development that unconsciously her point of view had changed; changed all the more because she had been so unhappy with the man she had chosen. Curiously enough, and unfortunately enough for Susanna Hathaway's peace of mind, the greater aversion she felt towards the burden of the old life, towards the irksomeness of guiding a weaker soul, towards the claims of husband on wife, the stronger those claims appeared. If they had never been assumed!—Ah, but they had; there was the rub! One sight of little Sue sleeping tranquilly beside her; one memory of rebellious, faulty Jack; one vision of John, either as needing or missing her, the rightful woman, or falling deeper in the wiles of the wrong one for very helplessness;—any of these changed Susanna the would-be saint, in an instant, into Susanna the wife and mother.
“Speak to me for Thy Compassion's sake,” she prayed from the little book of Confessions that her mother had given her. “I will follow after Thy Voice!”
“Would you betray your trust?” asked conscience.
“No, not intentionally.”
“Would you desert your post?”
“Never, willingly.”
“You have divided the family; taken a little quail bird out of the home-nest and left sorrow behind you. Would God justify you in that?”
For the first time Susanna's “No” rang clearly enough for her to hear it plainly; for the first time it was followed by no vague misgivings, no bewilderment, no unrest or indecision. “I turn hither and hither; Thy purposes are hid from me, but I commend my soul to Thee!”
Then a sentence from the dear old book came into her memory: “And thy dead things shall revive, and thy weak things shall be made whole.”
She listened, laying hold of every word, till the nervous clenching of her hands subsided, her face relaxed into peace. Then she lay down beside Sue, creeping close to her for the warmth and comfort and healing of her innocent touch, and, closing her eyes serenely, knew no more till the morning broke, the Sabbath morning of Confession Day.