Under the
shadow of some rock, the tent-roof of some umbrageous beech, or the
solemn gloom of some pine-grove, the brooding spirit of the summer would
day after day find her when the sun was on the height of his great
bridge, and fill her with the sense of that repose in which alone she
herself can work. Then would such a quiescence pervade Hester's spirit,
such a sweet spiritual sleep creep over her, that nothing seemed
required of her but to live; mere existence was conscious well-being.
But the feeling never lasted long. All at once would start awake in her
the dread that she was forsaking the way, inasmuch as she was more
willing to be idle, and rest in inaction. Then would faith rouse herself
and say: "But God will take care of you in this thing too. You have not
to watch lest He should forget, but to be ready when He gives you the
lightest call. You have to keep listening." And the ever returning
corrective to such mood came with the evening; for, regularly as she
went to bed at night and left it in the morning, she went from the
tea-table in the afternoon to her piano, and there, through all the
sweet evening movements and atmospheric changes of the brain--for the
brain has its morning and evening, its summer and winter as well as the
day and the year--would meditate aloud, or brood aloud over the musical
meditations of some master in harmony.
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