"Do we not sometimes get glimpses of God in that way?" I asked.
"Are you always thinking such high thoughts, Medoline?"
"Oh, no, indeed. When I have nothing to inspire them, my thoughts are very commonplace. The brook cannot rise higher than its source; it needs artificial help to scale mountain tops."
He looked at me kindly as he said: "You are not fashioned after the regulation models of the woman of to-day."
"I think I have heard that idea expressed in varying phrases a good many times since I came to America."
"It does not displease you?"
"It used to at first. Possibly I am getting used to it now. I see there is so much genuine unhappiness in the world, I am not going to grieve over the mild criticisms of my friends."
"A very philosophic conclusion to come to. But does it not occur to you that other meanings than unkindly ones may be taken from these chance remarks we let fall?"
"It would please me if I could," I said, looking at him with pleased eagerness. Mrs. Flaxman entered the room then, ready for church. My head was aching severely, and a distressing giddiness occasionally seized me; but I was so eager for this long coveted privilege, I kept silent about my feelings. Sickness and I were such strangers to each other, I scarcely understood its premonitory warnings.