He who
does not believe in God must be a truster in that which is lower than
himself.
Mark seldom talked about his brother. Before he went away the last time
he had begun to shrink from him a little, as if with some instinct of an
inward separation. He would stand a little way off and look at him as if
he were a stranger in whom he was interested, and as if he himself were
trying to determine what mental attitude he must assume towards him.
When he heard that he was ill, the tears came in his eyes, but he did
not speak.
"Are you not sorry for Corney?" said his mother.
"I'm sorry," he answered, "because it must make him unhappy. He does not
like being ill."
"_You_ don't like being ill, I'm sure Mark!" returned his mother,
apprehending affectation.
"I don't mind it much," answered the boy, looking far away--as it seemed
to his mother, towards a region to which she herself had begun to look
with longing. The way her husband took their grief made them no more a
family, but a mere household. He brooded alone and said nothing. They
did not share sorrow as they had shared joy.
At last came a letter from Hester saying that in two days she hoped to
start with Corney to bring him home.
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