Catherine unconsciously smiled at the loveliness spread out before her eyes, and remembered the words of a poet:
'What sweeter aid my matins could befall
Than this fair glory from the East hath made?
What holy sleights hath God, the Lord of All,
To bid us feel and see! We are not free
To say we see not, for the glory comes,
Nightly and daily, like the flowing sea.'
Then she took up her pen and began to write to Brian.
This was no hard task, for she knew that he liked her letters to be rambling and unstudied, consisting of sentences from her heart, just as she loved best to make them. All her pure girl's fancies and imaginings about the higher life, all her tender anxieties—on the subject of himself usually—her fears for his health, and longings for his complete understanding of God, all her merry discoveries in her daily life, all the kindnesses she received, all her hopes for the future, these were written down simply for his interest. Fortunately, Brian North could be trusted to appreciate and reverence Catherine's sincerity. The letter, when written, was a precious revelation of a good woman's very soul.
Probably the 'good woman' herself would never guess how large an effect her letters wrought upon Brian's heart and intellect, how he was learning to accept her ideas, see God through her eyes, and exchange his worldly ambitions for her lofty content with aspirations infinitely nobler.
She was quite unconsciously setting him a lovable model of a Christian life, as all God-serving girls should be able to do for those who are dear to them.
Her pen flew over the several sheets of paper, until she felt satisfied that her lover had been given a really accurate description of her new experiences at Beverbridge. She had honestly tried not to allow her great affection for Uncle Jack to prejudice her in writing of Uncle Ross, yet she wanted Brian to be prepared to be devoted to the former.
Mrs. Arderne's suggestion that Brian would not approve of his betrothed's acceptance of Redan Cottage as 'home' scarcely occurred to Catherine this morning. She had not the least doubt that she had acted in the best way in regard to Uncle Jack's offer, and so, loyally, she felt certain that Brian must agree with her when he considered the subject.
The letter, though of even unusual length, was finished some time before the hour for breakfast, so Catherine began to write another to her cousin George in Melbourne, the cousin who had been in the same regiment with poor Loring Carmichael.
After sending messages to George's relatives, and giving him a spirited account of her experiences in London, describing the sights she had seen, she continued as follows: