Our day will come, and
your joy and ours, and all shall be well.
The attachment of Mark to the major continued growing.
"When Majie comes," he said one of those days, "he must not go again."
"Why, Markie?" asked his mother, almost without a meaning, for her
thought was with her eldest-born, her disgrace.
"Because, if he does," he answered, "I shall not see much of him."
The mother looked at the child, but said nothing. Sorrow was now the
element of her soul. Cornelius had destroyed the family heart; the
family must soon be broken up, and vanish in devouring vacancy! Do you
ask where was her faith? I answer, Just where yours and mine is when we
give thanks trusting in the things for which we give thanks; when we
rest in what we have, in what we can do, in what people think of us, in
the thought of the friends we have at our back, or in anything whatever
but the living, outgoing power of the self-alive--the one causing
potency in the heart of our souls, and in every clothing of those souls,
from nerve, muscle, and skin to atmosphere and farthest space. The
living life is the one power, the only that can, and he who puts his
trust or hope in anything else whatever is a worshipper of idols.
Pages:
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598