CHAPTER XXXVI 529
CHAPTER XXXVI
The daylight came. I rose at dawn. I busied myself for an hour or two with arranging my things in my chamber, drawers, and wardrobe, in the order wherein I should wish to leave them during a brief absence. Meantime, I heard St. John quit his room. He stopped at my door: I feared he would knock-- no, but a slip of paper was passed under the door. I took it up. It bore these words-
" You left me too suddenly last night. Had you stayed but a little longer, you would have laid your hand on the Christian ' s cross and the angel ' s crown. I shall expect your clear decision when I return this day fortnight. Meantime, watch and pray that you enter not into temptation: the spirit, I trust, is willing, but the flesh, I see, is weak. I shall pray for you hourly.-- Yours, ST. JOHN."
" My spirit," I answered mentally, " is willing to do what is right; and my flesh, I hope, is strong enough to accomplish the will of Heaven, when once that will is distinctly known to me. At any rate, it shall be strong enough to search-- inquire-- to grope an outlet from this cloud of doubt, and find the open day of certainty."
It was the first of June; yet the morning was overcast and chilly: rain beat fast on my casement. I heard the front-door open, and St. John pass out. Looking through the window, I saw him traverse the garden. He took the way over the misty moors in the direction of Whitcross-- there he would meet the coach.
" In a few more hours I shall succeed you in that track, cousin," thought I: " I too have a coach to meet at Whitcross. I too have some to see and ask after in England, before I depart for ever."
It wanted yet two hours of breakfast-time. I filled the interval in walking softly about my room, and pondering the visitation which had given my plans their present bent. I recalled that inward sensation I had experienced: for I could recall it, with all its unspeakable strangeness. I recalled the voice