Part 30 (2/2)
”Suppose the one goes to the battlefield for his own glory, and the other stays at home for his own ease?”
”Don't you think glory is a thing to live for?” said Ransom, with an indignant expression that reminded me painfully of our childish days.
”Yes,” I said slowly, - ”I do; but not the praise of men, which is so often mistaken. The glory that comes from G.o.d, - _that_ is worth living for.”
”What an incomprehensible girl you are!” Ransom answered impatiently.
”She'll mend -” said mamma.
”But, Miss Randolph,” said Mr. Marshall, ”the care of infirm relatives, a father or a mother, can anything make that unworthy?”
”Not in itself,” I said; ”but suppose a man's duty calls him away? It might. You can suppose such a case.”
”I see what I have to expect,” mamma said with a laugh. ”Daisy will take care of me, until some duty calls her away. I will not count upon you, Daisy, any longer than that. De Saussure, what is _your_ estimate of life's objects? On honour, now!”
”I can think of nothing better than to live for somebody that one loves,” he said.
”I knew you would say that,” she rejoined. ”Hugh, what do you say?”
”I need to go to school, Mrs. Randolph.”
”Well, go to school to Daisy,” said mamma with another light laugh. ”And come, let us walk, or we shall not have time.
Eug?ne Sue, is it, that we are going to see?”
”Only his house, madam. Miss Randolph, I am charged, you know, with your studies to-day.”
I was not in the mood of accepting Mr. De Saussure's arm, but just then it was the only thing to do. My mother and Ransom and Hugh Marshall were presently some little distance behind, an interval separating us; and Mr. De Saussure and I followed the sh.o.r.es of the lake, taking such counsel together as our somewhat diverse moods made possible. I was thinking, what a life of hard work the two prophets Elijah must have known in their time; he who was first of the name, and his greater successor, John the Baptist. Each of them worked alone, against a universal tide of adverse evil that flooded the land. If I found it so sorrowful to be alone in my family and society, what must they have felt with the whole world against them. And Elijah's spirit did once give out, brave as he was: ”It is enough, O Lord; take away my life.” I thought I could understand it. To be all alone; to have no sympathy in what is dearest to you; to face opposition and scorn and ridicule and contumely while trying to do people good and bring them to good; to have only G.o.d on your side, with the bitter consciousness that those whom you love best are arrayed against him; your family and country; - I suppose n.o.body can tell how hard that is to endure, but he who has tasted it. My taste of it was light indeed; but a half hour with Miss Cardigan would have been inexpressibly good to me that day. So I thought, as I walked along the bank of the lake with Mr. De Saussure; and then I remembered ”my hiding-place and my s.h.i.+eld.”
”You are very silent to-day, Miss Randolph,” said my companion at length. I may remark, in pa.s.sing, that _he_ had not been.
”It is enough to look, and to think,” I answered, ”with such a sight before one's eyes.”
”Do you know,” said he, ”such independence of all the exterior world, - of mortals, I mean, - is very tantalising to those disregarded mortals?”
”Do you find it so? It is fair then to presume, in a place like this, that what takes up my attention has not so much charm for you.”
”That is severe!” he said. ”Do you think I do not see all this beauty before us? But pardon me, - have _you_ seen it?”
”I have tasted it every step of the way, Mr. De Saussure.”
”I am rebuked,” he said. ”You must excuse me - I had counted upon the pleasure of seeing you enjoy it.”
”One's enjoyment is not always heightened by giving it expression,” I said.
”No, I know that is your theory - or practice,” he said. ”My sisters are always so vehement in their praises of anything they like, that n.o.body else has a chance to know whether he likes it or not. I generally incline to the _not_.”
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