"'Because you talk like all the rest. At ease yourselves, religious faith is an easy matter to you. It is easy to give these every-day religious consolations, when we have nothing else to give. But they are things of a peculiar character. If the soul does not put them within itself, none upon earth can bestow them. They are only given of God; and it has not pleased Him to give them to me. No,' she went on, with much emotion. 'If there be light in darkness, it shines not for me. If out of the depths they call, and He listens, He has not listened to me. My prayers have been vain, and I have wearied myself with offering them. There was no help in them.'
"I was grieved and shocked to hear her speak thus. I, however, ventured to urge my point a little further.
"'But you did find help, somewhere?'
"'Not such as I wanted; not health and strength to my poor darkened spirit.'
"'And why? Because they sought it not in faith ...'
"'Ah! faith! but who can command this faith?'
"'Everybody.'
"'Everybody! If it has pleased God to darken our understandings so that we do not know him at all, it may be as you say. But if we know him—not to trust in him—that worst of faith must be our own fault.'
"She was silent, and seemed to sink into a reverie, which I would not disturb. At last she shook it off, and turning suddenly to me, said, 'Clementina had got nearer this truth than I had, or have. Yes, that it was—that it must have been—which supported her in circumstances far worse than mine. She was patient, composed, resigned, and, in spite of her natural feebleness, showed a strength which I ever wanted. She endured better than I do, when she lay low as I do now, and suffered worse, far worse. How was it?'
"'My strength is made perfect in weakness'—'Is not that said?'