"
It was coming now--the scene which Arthur foresaw when, sitting in
the Deering woods, with life and sense crushed out, he gave his
Edith up to one more worthy than himself. It was the foreshadowing
of the "SACRIFICE," the first step taken toward it, and as one
who, seeing his destiny wrapping itself about him fold on fold,
sits down stunned and powerless, so Edith sat just where he bade
her sit, and listened to his story.
"Years ago, Edith, a solitary, wretched man I lived in my dark
world alone, weary of life, weary of every thing, and in my
weariness I was even beginning to question the justice of my
Creator for having dealt so harshly with me, when one day a wee
little singing bird, whose mother nest had been made desolate,
fluttered down at my feet, tired like myself, and footsore even
with the short distance it had come on life's rough journey. There
was a note in the voice of this sinking bird which spoke to me of
the past, and so my interest grew in the helpless thing until at
last it came to nestle at my side, not timidly, for such was not
its nature, but as if it had a right to be there--a right to be
caressed and loved as I caressed and loved it, for I did learn to
love it, Edith, so much, oh, so much, and the sound of its voice
was sweeter to me than the music of the Swedish nightingale, who
has filled the world with wonder.
Pages:
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361