"I don't think it was a right mood of mind I had when I wrote that," she said. "It was morbid. But I couldn't help it. Yet if one could keep possession of those words you quoted just now, I suppose one never would have morbid feelings, Mr. Carleton?"
"Perhaps not; but human nature has a weak hold of anything, and many things may make it weaker."
"Mine is weak," said Fleda. "But it is possible to keep firm hold of those words, Mr. Carleton?"
"Yes by strength that is not human nature's and, after all, the firm hold is rather that in which we are held, or ours would soon fail. The very hand that makes the promise its own must be nerved to grasp it. And so it is best, for it keeps us looking off always to the Author and Finisher of our faith."
"I love those words," said Fleda. "But, Mr. Carleton, how shall one be sure that one has a right to those other words those, I mean, that you told to Hugh? One cannot take the comfort of them unless one is sure."
Her voice trembled.
"My dear Elfie, the promises have many of them their double stamped with the very same signet and if that sealed counterpart is your own, it is the sure earnest and title to the whole value of the promise."
"Well in this case?" said Fleda, eagerly.
"In this case, God says, 'I am thy shield, and thy exceeding great reward.' Now, see if your own heart can give the countersign 'Thou art my portion, O Lord!' "
Fleda's head sank instantly, and almost lay upon his arm.