Don't you remember how
Griff used to say she maundered over the text. Well, she did it all
the way home in my ear, as she clung to my arm--"Be strong, and He
shall comfort thine heart." And then I knew my despair and
determination to leave it all behind were a temptation--"the old
story," as you told me, and I prayed God to help me, and just
managed to fight it out. Thank God for her!'
If it had not been for that good woman, he would have been out of
reach--already out in the river--before Mr. Castleford's messenger
had reached London! He might call himself a poor creature--and
certainly a man of harder, bolder stuff would not have fared so
badly in the strife; but it always seemed to me in after years that
much of what he called the poor creature--the old, nervous, timid,
diffident self--had been shaken off in that desperate struggle,
perhaps because it had really given him more self-reliance, and
certainly inspired others with confidence in him.
We talked late enough to have horrified my mother, but I did not
leave him till he was sleeping like a child, nor did he wake till I
was leaving the room at the sound of the bell. It was alleged that
it was the first time in his life that he had been late for prayers.
Mr. Castleford said he was very glad, and my mother, looking
severely at me, said she knew we had been talking all night, and
then went off to satisfy herself whether he ought to be getting up.
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