'There's nought so finely spun

But it cometh to the sun.'

Mr. Thornton sate on and on. He felt that his company gave

pleasure to Mr. Hale; and was touched by the half-spoken wishful

entreaty that he would remain a little longer--the plaintive

'Don't go yet,' which his poor friend put forth from time to

time. He wondered Margaret did not return; but it was with no

view of seeing her that he lingered. For the hour--and in the

presence of one who was so thoroughly feeling the nothingness of

earth--he was reasonable and self-controlled. He was deeply

interested in all her father said, 'Of death, and of the heavy lull,

And of the brain that has grown dull.'

It was curious how the presence of Mr. Thornton had power over

Mr. Hale to make him unlock the secret thoughts which he kept

shut up even from Margaret. Whether it was that her sympathy

would be so keen, and show itself in so lively a manner, that he

was afraid of the reaction upon himself, or whether it was that

to his speculative mind all kinds of doubts presented themselves

at such a time, pleading and crying aloud to be resolved into

certainties, and that he knew she would have shrunk from the

expression of any such doubts--nay, from him himself as capable

of conceiving them--whatever was the reason, he could unburden

himself better to Mr. Thornton than to her of all the thoughts

and fancies and fears that had been frost-bound in his brain till

now. Mr. Thornton said very little; but every sentence he uttered

added to Mr. Hale's reliance and regard for him. Was it that he

paused in the expression of some remembered agony, Mr. Thornton's

two or three words would complete the sentence, and show how

deeply its meaning was entered into. Was it a doubt--a fear--a

wandering uncertainty seeking rest, but finding none--so

tear-blinded were its eyes--Mr. Thornton, instead of being

shocked, seemed to have passed through that very stage of thought

himself, and could suggest where the exact ray of light was to be

found, which should make the dark places plain. Man of action as

he was, busy in the world's great battle, there was a deeper

religion binding him to God in his heart, in spite of his strong

wilfulness, through all his mistakes, than Mr. Hale had ever

dreamed. They never spoke of such things again, as it happened;

but this one conversation made them peculiar people to each

other; knit them together, in a way which no loose indiscriminate

talking about sacred things can ever accomplish. When all are

admitted, how can there be a Holy of Holies?




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