True, there had been drawbacks in the particular
house he had chosen, but, he need not live in a house where there
was a Mr. Holt, and he should no longer be tied to the profession
which he so much hated; if there were neither screams nor scripture
readings he could be happy in a garret at three shillings a week, such
as Miss Maitland lived in.
As he thought further he remembered that all things work together
for good to them that love God; was it possible, he asked himself,
that he too, however imperfectly, had been trying to love Him? He
dared not answer Yes, but he would try hard that it should be so. Then
there came into his mind that noble air of Handel's: "Great God, who
yet but darkly known," and he felt it as he had never felt it
before. He had lost his faith in Christianity, but his faith in
something-he knew not what, but that there was a something as yet
but darkly known, which made right right and wrong wrong- his faith in
this grew stronger and stronger daily.
Again there crossed his mind thoughts of the power which he felt
to be in him, and of how and where it was to find its vent. The same
instinct which had led him to live among the poor because it was the
nearest thing to him which he could lay hold of with any clearness
came to his assistance here too.
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