Had she
belonged to his own church, she would no doubt have become a
"religious"; and he would have felt it the natural solution. Outside the
Catholic Church, the same need takes shape--he thought--in forms less
suited to a woman's weakness, less conducive to her dignity.
All through he resented the sacrifice of a being so noble, true, and
tender to a love, in his eyes, so unfitting and derogatory. Not all the
pathos of suffering could blunt his sense of Marsham's inferiority, or
make him think it "worth while."
Then, looking deeper, he saw the mother in the child; and in Diana's
devotion, mysterious influences, flowing from her mother's fate--from
the agony, the sin, the last tremulous hope, and piteous submission of
Juliet Sparling. He perceived that in this broken, tortured happiness to
which Diana had given herself there was some sustaining or consoling
element that nothing more normal or more earthly would have brought her;
he guessed at spiritual currents and forces linking the dead with the
living, and at a soul heroically calm among them, sending forth rays
into the darkness. His religion, which was sincere, enabled him to
understand her; his affection, his infinite delicacy of feeling,
helped her.
Pages:
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710