“Oh,” said Tessa with a half startled, little cry.
“I fear that you are having a hard time over something, child.”
“If you only knew—but you wouldn’t believe in me any longer; neither would father, or Dine, or Gus, or any one who trusts me; I will not tell you; I have lost all faith in myself.”
“Thank God for that!” exclaimed the little woman brightly.
“I am too sore and bruised to be thankful; I feel, sometimes, as if I could creep into a dark corner and cry my heart out. I could bear it if I were the only one, but to think that I must make somebody’s heart ache as mine does! I thought all my prayers would prevail to keep me from making mistakes.”
“Perhaps you have been trying to earn your heart’s desire by heaping up prayers, piling them up higher and higher, morning, noon, and night, and you have held them up to God thinking that He must be glad to take them; I shouldn’t wonder if you had even supposed that you were paying Him overmuch—you had prayed enough to get what you want some time ago.”
“That is true,” answered Tessa, emphatically. “I have felt as if He were wronging me by taking my prayers and giving me so little in return. I believe that I have thought my prayers precious enough to pay for any thing. I paid my prayers, and I am disappointed that I have not my purchases.”
“Then your faith has been all in your prayers.”
“Yes; I was sure that I could not go wrong because I prayed so much.”
“And your faith has been in your faith.”