and trusted most?
Now all was terribly clear. Augustine, in a decadent, delicate age, had
not minced matters, and had insisted that all hope must be placed in Him
Who would not spare the scourge. "Oftentimes," he had cried, "does our
Tamer bring forth His scourge too." Mark took down the old, worn book.

"In Him let us place our hope, and until we are tamed and tamed
thoroughly--that is, are perfected--let us bear our Tamer.... Whereas,
when thou art tamed, God reserveth for thee an inheritance which is God
Himself.... For God will then be _all in all_; neither will there be any
unhappiness to exercise us, but happiness alone to feed us.... What
multiplicity of things soever thou seekest here, He alone will be
Himself all these things to thee.

"Unto this hope is man tamed, and shall his Tamer then be deemed
intolerable? Unto this hope is man tamed, and shall he murmur against
his beneficient Tamer, if He chance to use the scourge?...

"Whether, therefore, Thou dealest softly with us that we be not wearied
in the way, or chastisest us that we wander not from the way, _Thou art
become our refuge, O Lord_."

As Mark read, the pain of too great light was softened to him. What had
been hard, white light, glowed more rosy until it flushed his horizon
with full glory.

It wanted a small space in time, but a mighty change in the spirit,
before Mark read Edmund's letter with a keen wish to enter into its full
meaning, and judge it wisely. Having come to himself, he was, as ever,
ready to give that self away. He was full of a strange energy; he smiled
to feel that the strokes of the lash were unfelt, while consciousness
was lost in love. This was God's anaesthetic. But it thrilled the soul
with vitality, and in no sense but the absence of pain did it suspend
the faculties. He had no doubt, no hesitation, as to what he must do. He
would go to Molly, he must see her at once, but not a word should pass
his lips of what Edmund wanted him to say. Not a moment must be lost.
Who might not betray her danger and destroy her opportunity? Molly must
be brought to do this thing of herself without any admixture of fear,
without any aim or object but to sacrifice all for what was right. He
yearned with utter simplicity that this might be her way out. Let her do
it for herself. Let her do it of herself, thought Mark--not because she
is afraid, not because her vast possessions appear the least insecure.
And the action would be far more no