“I wondered very much what made you do that thing? It could not have been pleasant; was it?”
“Indeed, it was not.” Margaret was silent for a few minutes; and then she continued, in the low tones which she always used when she was deeply moved, “The fact is, that a change has come over me lately. I was always helped to form habits which were of the better sort, and I thought myself a very good Christian until a little while ago, when, after I had read a book opposed to Christianity, I began to really study the New Testament.”
“And what did you find?”
“I found Christ.”
“Of course!”
“No; it was not ‘of course’ at all. I had read it many times, and found a great deal about Him that was interesting and beautiful. But I had not found Him, which is quite a different thing. It is as if I had been in the dark, and a sudden flash had lighted up everything.”
“I wish the flash would come to me! I am anxious to see that Sermon on the Mount put into living form.”
“But it can never be while it is considered to be merely an exquisite literary production, to be praised and patronised. It has to be acknowledged as a code of laws absolutely binding on those who profess to be the disciples of Him who proclaimed it. But it is impossible for these laws to be entirely obeyed except by those who have found in Christ the Regenerator of themselves. Don’t you think so? I used to admire Him and venerate Him, and perhaps fear Him a little; but now it is all so different; I know Him, a living, reliable, present Friend and Companion. And I love Him because He first loved me.”
Dallington looked into the beautiful eyes, alive with feeling, and said, “And He is really real to you?”
“Real to me?” she cried. “I am not more real to myself. And it is all so wonderful!”