y
of the novel may seem complete.

The poetry of Maggie's nature found itself constantly dragged down to
conditions of vulgar prose by the life about her. That life was prosy and
hard because those ideal aims which come from a recognition of the past and
its traditions were absent from it. Maggie tried to overcome them by
renunciation, but by renunciation which did not rest on any genuine sorrow
and pain. At last these came, and the real meaning of renunciation was made
clear to her. Her bitter sorrow taught her the great lesson which George
Eliot ever strives to inculcate, that what is hard, sorrowful and painful
in the world should move us to more and more of compassion and help for our
fellows who also find life sad and burdensome. At the last Maggie learned
this greatest of all lessons which life can give us.

She sat quite still far on into the night, with no impulse to, change
her attitude, without active force enough even for the mental act of
prayer--only waiting for the light that would surely come again. It
came with the memories that no passion could long quench: the long past
came back to her, and with it the fountains of self-renouncing pity and
affection, of faithfulness and resolve. The words that were marked by
the quiet hand in the little old book that she had long ago learned by
heart, rushed even to her lips, and found a vent for themselves in a
low murmur that was quite lost in the loud driving of the rain against
the window, and the loud moan and roar of the wind: "I have received
the Cross, I have received it from Thy hand; I will bear it, and bear
it till death, as Thou hast laid it upon me."

But soon other words rose that could find no utterance but in a sob:
"Forgive me, Stephen. It will pass away. You will come back to her."

She took up the letter, held it to the candle, and let it burn slowly
on the hearth. To-morrow she would write to him the last word of
parting.

"I will bear it, and bear it till death... But how long it will be
before death comes! I am so young, so healthy. How shall I have
patience and strength? Am I to struggle and fall, and repent again?
Has life other trials as hard for me still?" With that cry of
self-despair Maggie fell on her knees against the table, and buried
her sorrow-stricken face. Her soul went out to the Unseen Pity that
would be with her to the end. Surely t