Still she had not removed his anxiety about his wife. "Was
Sophy suffering from the effects of the low, nervous fever yet?
"Yes; I'll take care of my wife," he said, glancing toward the parlor
door; "it has been a sore trial, this long separation of ours. But it's
over now; and she is dearer to me than ever she was."
"Ay! love will do almost everything," she answered, sadly, "and I know
you will never get tired or worn out, if it's for years and years. A
thing like this doesn't come right all at once; but if it comes right at
last, we have cause to be thankful. Mr. Warden has not had full
patience; and Mrs. Bolton lost hers too soon. Neither of them knows it
as I know it. You can't storm it away; and it's no use raving at it.
Only love and patience can do it; and not that always. But we are bound
to bear with them, poor things! even to death. We cannot measure God's
patience with our measure."
Ann Holland's voice trembled, and her eyes filled with tears, which
glistened in the firelight. She could not bear to speak more plainly to
her rector, whom she loved and reverenced so greatly.
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