Afloat on the stormy sea of human life, he had
seemed like a mariner without helm or compass. Strangely enough,
since meeting with Jenny at the cottage a little while before, the
thought of her appeared to bring his mother nearer to him; and when,
so unexpectedly, he saw her approaching him in the woods, he felt
momentarily, that it was his mother's spirit guiding her thither.
Urged by so strong an appeal, Jenny suffered herself to be led to
the retired spot where Mark had been reclining, half wondering, half
fearful--yet impelled by a certain feeling that she could not well
resist. In fact, each exercised a power over the other, a power not
arising from any determination of will, but from a certain spiritual
affinity that neither comprehended. Some have called this "destiny,"
but it has a better name.
"Jenny," said Mark, after they were seated--he still retained her
hand in his, and felt it tremble--"tell me something about my
mother. It will do me good to hear of her from your lips."
The girl tried to make some answer, but found no utterance. Her lips
trembled so that she could not speak. But she grew more composed
after a time, and then in reply to many questions of Mark, related
incident after incident, in which his mother's goodness of character
stood prominent.
Pages:
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90