"It is more than that, it is the gift of God; and therefore intended for good. The saints were in the habit of saying, 'God created all this beauty in order to lead me to love him.' Now, if a woman thinks of this, she will not prize her beauty for the purposes of vanity, but to lead her admirers to something higher than herself. I grant you this is not common, nor would a woman think of it, unless she had been taught to think of God as the first principle of her life. But I will not preach any more."
"You remind me of my little 'Mrs. Barbauld.' How long it is since I have thought of it! 'The rose is beautiful; but he that made the rose is more beautiful than it. It is beautiful; he is beauty.'"
"I have been unusually serious, perhaps because I have felt the end of the dream drawing very near. I am going away the day after to-morrow."
The sunset clouds had faded away, and the stars were coming out above our heads. We had reached the top of one more long hill, and there was the little meeting-house before us, and we saw beyond our own white cottage, with a light in the parlor-window, showing that tea-time was passed. Mr. Grey spoke again.
"Have you enjoyed this drive?"
"I have very much."
"Have I said anything to hurt or offend you?"
"No, indeed, Mr. Grey. On the contrary, you have given me something to think about. No one ever spoke to me in this way before."
"And do you think you shall be likely to remember this afternoon? and with pleasure?"