that of the Church of England, I shall marvel
that Heaven's lightning has not struck me dead."

... "You speak hopefully of the time when we shall hold one faith, and
both give thanks unto the merciful God who has lightened my darkness.
I cannot say this _yet _; but the time may come. And if it does, what
shall I owe to you, who, by your outward life, first revived my faith
in humanity--by your inward life, my faith in God? You have solved to
me many of those enigmas of Providence which, in my blindness, I thought
impugned eternal justice. Now I see that love--human and divine--is
sufficient to itself, and that he who loves God is one with God. There
may be a hundred varying forms of doctrine, but this one truth is above
all and the root of all.--I hold to it, and I believe it will save my
soul. If ever I lift up a prayer worthy to reach the ear of God, it is
that He may bless you, my friend, and comforter."

And here, reader, for a moment, we pause. Following whither our object
led, we have gone far beyond the bounds usually prescribed to a book
like this; After perusing the present chapter, you may turn to the
title-page, and reading thereon, "Olive, a _Novel_" may exclaim, "Most
incongruous--most strange!" Nay, some may even accuse us of irreverence
in thus bringing into a fictitious story those subjects which are
acknowledged as most vital to every human soul, but yet which most
people are content, save at set times and places, tacitly to ignore.
There are those who sincerely believe that in such works as this it is
profanity even to name the Holy Name. Yet what is a novel, or, rather,
what is it that a novel ought to be? The attempt of one earnest mind
to show unto many what humanity is--ay, and more, what humanity might
become; to depict what is true in essence through imaginary forms; to
teach, counsel, and warn, by means of the silent transcript of human
life. Human life without God! Who will dare to tell us we should paint
_that_?

Authors, who feel the solemnity of their calling, cannot suppress the
truth that is within them. Having put their hands to the plough, they
may not turn aside, nor look either to the right or the left. They
must go straight on, as the inward voice impels; and He who seeth their
hearts will guide them aright.

CHAPTER XXXV.

Some days passed in quiet uniformity, broken only by the visits of
good-natured Lyle, who came, as he said, to amuse the invalid. Whether
that were t