FAITH AND LOVE. 97 



utterance of the Holy Spirit within me, and then tears came to 

 my relief, and I felt my child-nature return, and I slept — feeling 

 the wings of the Eternal folding me as in a garment whose 

 texture was Love. 



Morning at length came, and with it I heard a mechanical 

 step upon the stair. I hastened forward to meet the morning 

 welcome of my friend, that friend hitherto so calm, so beauti- 

 ful in his manliness, and I started involuntarily back at the 

 changes of a single night. His cheek and eye were hollow, 

 and his lips thin and rigid. His complexion had a greyness, 

 that was cold and unearthly. I pressed his hand, for I could 

 only look my sympathy. 



" She is dead, dear Ernest, lead me wherever you list." 



For hours we rode on in utter silence — for days even — for 

 weeks we kept aloof from the great thoroughfares of men, and 

 dwelt amid the solitary pityings of nature, where her balm is so 

 breathed into the soul that we are healed and yet are uncon- 

 scious of the ministry. I made no attempts to console him — 

 I would not worry him with unavailing sympathy. " Let me 

 alone," is the heart's remonstrance, when words are thrust 

 into its desolate chambers. Unconsciously I followed the exam- 

 ple so pathetically beautiful in the friends of the man of Uz, 

 when they sat beside him " seven days and seven nights and 

 opened not their mouth, for they saw that his grief was great." 



At length we alighted beside a mountain stream, and 



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