ht she
had received, but the first flush of faith that had brought forth the
works, seemed gone, and she knew not how to bring it back. Not that she
was not just as earnest, not that she had lost a whit of her faith or
interest, but the fire of impulse, unclouded by doubt, had disappeared.
She thought about it every leisure moment, but concluded at last to let
go such intense effort that must necessarily be blind, and live more in
the "holy carelessness of the eternal Now," as George MacDonald so
beautifully expressed it in his book she was reading.

In one respect she fared as comparatively few women do, who hunger after
spiritual things; she had her husband's full sympathy and co-operation.
Afterward, when she had seen more of the world and knew more about other
women's lives, she realized the value of it, realized that without it
she would have starved before she could have feasted. Oh, the sweet
influence of a sympathy that unites and harmonizes two natures, no
matter how opposite in character and tendencies.

CHAPTER XI.

"As out of a dream, paths impossible to sense and every day show
plain and sudden transit into distant places, so from your shut
souls widens out an entrance way into God's everlasting joy!"

--_A. D. T. Whitney._

At last the time came. She was to go for the last class in Marlow. The
last problem as to what to be done while she was gone had been solved.
The children were to be under the kind care of Anna, who agreed to do
her best in looking after them.

Mrs. Hayden's wardrobe had received the necessary additions, the
question of affording was not asked again, for it was like asking if she
could afford food or clothing.

It meant a great deal to her, going out in the world to get this
wonderful knowledge. It was a new way of seeking the kingdom of heaven,
and it must surely teach the right knock that would open the door. The
little light that had already come to her proved that, for never before
in all her years of hungry longing had she been so well fed, so visibly
nourished. Surely her soul could not be mistaken in thus dictating her
quest.

"It seems too good to be true, John, that there _is_ a way and that I am
going to find it," she said a few days before she went away.

"I am very glad, dear Marion, for your sake, that you are so happy in
this. It certainly is a beautiful religion as far as we can understand
it."

"Yes, the very thing we tried so har