“Yes, Gwladys, that is the thought of thoughts for me at Tintern—God remains. Never with His will need we unloose our hold of the Divine hand.”
I looked at my watch again, the time had nearly come for me to tell him; was he not himself making it easy?
“And God’s mercies follow us so continually too, Gwladys,” continued my brother; “I have had some sorrow, it is true, but still mercy has always gone with it. Think of Owen, for instance. Oh! I have wrestled in prayer for him, and been faithless. Amy often reproached me for it; she said God would make it all right for Owen, that God loved and would always love him. Dear child, how I remember her words; and now, my dear, it seems all coming true, Owen is so steady, so careful, so anxious to succeed, so much liked, he is so honourable too about that money I lent him. Not that I care for it, not in the least, but I like the feeling in the dear fellow, and he is making everything right down in the mine. When I remember how nearly he was shipwrecked, and now see good hope of his yet making for the haven; I’m not quite sure yet that the love of God actuates him solely, but it will come, for God is leading him.”
I looked at my watch again, it was four o’clock. I must speak.
“David,” I said, “do you love God better than any one?”
The agitation in my voice must have penetrated to David’s heart at once; he turned round and looked at me.
“I do love Him better than any one, Gwladys; but why do you ask?”
“You would never be angry with God whatever He did?” I said, again.
“Angry? no, no; what a strange question.”
“I have a reason for asking it,” I said.