And in it all stood her father, whom she had left
alone, in that interminable interval between the old life and the new.
Had she done right? She had cut him off, as if he had never been--her
people, her country also; and for what? For this--for this sinking
sense, this failing body, this wear and tear of mind and heart, this
constant study to be possible where she had once been declared by the
world to be impossible.
One night she lay sleeping after a rather feverish day, when it was
thought best to keep the child from her. Suddenly she waked, and sat up.
Looking straight before her, she said:
"I will arise, and will go to my Father, and will say unto Him, Father,
I have sinned against heaven and before Thee, and am no more worthy to be
called Thy son."
She said nothing more than this, and presently lay back, with eyes wide
open, gazing before her. Like this she lay all night long, a strange,
aching look in her face. There had come upon her the sudden impulse to
leave it all, and go back to her father.
Pages:
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100