"You do not
know me yet, Alice. Perhaps I appear far better than I am."
Alice smiled, and laying her arm around Aunt Mary's neck, drew down
her face, and kissed her affectionately, whispering, "You will be my
guide, I ask no better."
"Thank you, thank you," broke from Aunt Mary's lips; she pressed
Alice's cheek with the ardent haste of love and gratitude; then
yielding to the emotions that thrilled her heart, she burst into
tears, and wept with a joy she had long been a stranger to. She felt
that her life would no longer be useless, if she could live for
Alice, and lift up to God her heart. How beautiful in its freshness,
is the early day when the light of a good resolve breaks like a halo
over the soul, and by its power, seeks to win it from its selfish
idols! Earnest and strong is the hopefulness that bids us labour
trustingly to become all we yearn to be--all we may be. How
tremblingly Mary Clinton leaned upon her Saviour! experience had
taught her the weakness of her fluttering heart; sorrow was
familiar, yet she prayed not to shrink from it. How clear and
vigorous was the mind of Alice--how shadowless was her unerring path
to be--how all weakness departed before the sudden thought that rose
up in her soul! How rich was the light that beamed from her steady
eye--how calm and trusting the slight smile that parted her lips!
How meek and confiding she was, and yet how full of strength! She
was a young seeker after truth, and she realized not yet, that that
same truth was the power to which she must bow every rebellious
thing within her.
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