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perhaps hear his wretched creature that calls。 In this loneliness
of despair； life must find The Life； for joy is gone； and life is
all that is left： it is compelled to seek its source； its root； its
eternal life。 This alone remains as a possible thing。 Strange
condition of despair into which the Spirit of God drives a mana
condition in which the Best alone is the Possible！
Other simpler natures look up at once。 Even before the first pang
has passed away； as by a holy instinct of celestial childhood； they
lift their eyes to the heavens whence cometh their aid。 Of this
class Euphra was not。 She belonged to the former。 And yet even she
had begun to look upward； for the waters had closed above her head。
She betook herself to the one man of whom she had heard as knowing
about God。 She wrote； but no answer came。 Days and days passed
away； and there was no reply。
〃Ah！ just so！〃 she said； in bitterness。 〃And if I cried to God for
ever； I should hear no word of reply。 If he be； he sits apart； and
leaves the weak to be the prey of the bad。 What cares he？〃
Yet； as she spoke； she rose； and； by a sudden impulse； threw herself
on the floor； and cried for the first time：
〃O God； help me！〃
Was there voice or hearing？
She rose at least with a little hope； and with the feeling that if
she could cry to him； it might be that he could listen to her。 It
seemed natural to pray； it seemed to come of itself： that could not
be except it was first natural for God to hear。 The foundation of
her own action must be in him who made her； for her call could be
only a response after all。
The time passed wearily by。 Dim； slow November days came on； with
the fall of the last brown shred of those clouds of living green
that had floated betwixt earth and heaven。 Through the bare boughs
of the overarching avenue of the Ghost's Walk； themselves living
skeletons； she could now look straight up to the blue sky； which had
been there all the time。 And she had begun to look up to a higher
heaven； through the bare skeleton shapes of life； for the foliage of
joy had wholly vanishedshall we say in order that the children of
the spring might come？certainly in order first that the blue sky
of a deeper peace might reflect itself in the hitherto darkened
waters of her soul。
Perhaps some of my readers may think that she had enough to repent
of to keep her from weariness。 She had plenty to repent of； no
doubt； but repentance； between the paroxysms of its bitterness； is a
very dreary and November…like state of the spiritual weather。 For
its foggy mornings and cheerless noons cannot believe in the sun of
spring； soon to ripen into the sun of summer； and its best time is
the night； that shuts out the world and weeps its fill of slow
tears。 But she was not altogether so blameworthy as she may have
appeared。 Her affectations had not been altogether false。 She
valued； and in a measure possessed； the feelings for which she
sought credit。 She had a genuine enjoyment of nature； though after
a sensuous； Keats…like fashion； not a Wordsworthian。 It was the
body； rather than the soul； of nature that she lovedits beauty
rather than its truth。 Had her love of nature been of the deepest；
she would have turned aside to conceal her emotions rather than have
held them up as allurements in the eyes of her companion。 But as no
body and no beauty can exist without soul and truth； she who loves
the former must at least be capable of loving the deeper essence to
which they owe their very existence。
This view of her character is borne out by her love of music and her
liking for Hugh。 Both were genuine。 Had the latter been either more
or less genuine than it was； the task of fascination would have been
more difficult； and its success less complete。 Whether her own
feelings became further involved than she had calculated upon； I
cannot tell； but surely it says something for her； in any case； that
she desired to retain Hugh as her friend； instead of hating him
because he had been her lover。
How glad she would have been of Harry now！ The days crawled one
after the other like weary snakes。 She tried to read the New
Testament： it was to her like a mouldy chamber of worm…eaten
parchments； whose windows had not been opened to the sun or the wind
for centuries； and in which the dust of the decaying leaves choked
the few beams that found their way through the age…blinded panes。
This state of things could not have lasted long； for Euphra would
have died。 It lasted； however； until she felt that she had been
leading a false； worthless life； that she had been casting from her
every day the few remaining fragments of truth and reality that yet
kept her nature from falling in a heap of helpless ruin； that she
had never been a true friend to any one； that she was of no
valuefit for no one's admiration； no one's love。 She must leave
her former self； like a dead body； behind her； and rise into a purer
air of life and reality； else she would perish with that everlasting
death which is the disease and corruption of the soul itself。
To those who know anything of such experiences； it will not be
surprising that such feelings as these should be alternated with
fierce bursts of passion。 The old self then started up with
feverish energy； and writhed for life。 Never any one tried to be
better； without； for a time； seeming to himself； perhaps to others；
to be worse。 For the suffering of the spirit weakens the brain
itself； and the whole physical nature groans under it； while the
energy spent in the effort to awake； and arise from the dust； leaves
the regions previously guarded by prudence naked to the wild inroads
of the sudden destroying impulses born of suffering； self…sickness；
and hatred。 As in the delirious patient； they would dash to the
earth whatever comes first within reach； as if the thing first
perceived； and so （by perception alone） brought into contact with
the suffering； were the cause of all the distress。
One day a letter arrived for her。 She had had no letter from any
one for weeks。 Yet； when she saw the direction； she flung it from
her。 It was from Mrs。 Elton； whom she disliked； because she found
her utterly uninteresting and very stupid。
Poor Mrs。 Elton laid no claim to the contraries of these epithets。
But in proportion as she abjured thought； she claimed speech； both
by word of mouth and by letter。 Why not？ There was nothing in it。
She considered reason as an awful enemy to the soul； and obnoxious
to God； especially when applied to find out what he means when he
addresses us as reasonable creatures。 But speech？ There was no
harm in that。 Perhaps it was some latent conviction that this power
of speech was the chief distinction between herself and the lower
animals； that made her use it so freely； and at the same time open
her purse so liberally to the Hospital for Orphan Dogs and Cats。 Had
it not been for her own dire necessity； the fact that Mrs。 Elton was
religious would have been enough to convince Euphra that there could
not possibly be anything in religion。
The letter lay unopened till next daya fact easy to account for；
improbab