'The fact of the matter is this--that I am _afraid_ of being alone with
him, of having a serious conversation with him, and so my life is
reduced to a series of petty schemes and manoeuvrings and pretexts for
avoiding his company. Such devices are unworthy of me. Either I must
renounce this love altogether, and he shall hear my sad but firm
resolve, or I shall accept it, in so far as it is pure, and he will
receive my spiritual consent.
'And now I ask myself--What do I really want? Which of the two paths am
I to choose? Must I renounce--shall I accept?
'My God! my God! answer Thou for me--light up the path before me!
'To renounce is like tearing out a piece of my heart with my own hands.
The agony would be supreme, the wrench would exceed the limits of the
endurable. But, by God's grace, such heroism would be crowned by
resignation, would be rewarded by that sweet and holy calm which follows
upon every high moral impulse, every victory of the soul over the dread
of suffering.
'I shall renounce--my daughter shall keep possession of my whole life,
of my whole soul. That is the path of duty, and I will walk in it.
'Sow in tears, oh mourning souls, that ye may reap with songs of
gladness!
'_September 30th._--I feel somewhat calmer in writing these pages. I
regain, at least for the moment, some slight balance of mind.
Pages:
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212