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Rachel Gray

Chapter 3 No.3

Word Count: 2762    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

city in presuming to stay out so long without previous leave obtained, she quite forgot to inquire particularly why she had not come home earlier. A series of disasters had been occ

quite faint and exhausted with her long vigil-puss had

mestic management in their little household, assured her that she had better, for that nothing else was she going to get; she sat down heroically determined to eat the whole of her polony in order to punish and provoke her step-daughter; but somehow or other the half of that dainty

g been gone to bed; as

Rachel the propriety of

tured to d

ther-I have w

ster on your mouth," grumbled Mrs. Gray, who was a firm believer in pitch plasters, and abductions, and

smiling, "you treat me like

n you aint got no mor

tary fatigue and sleep, and still she would not obey the voice of wearied nature; still she stitched for love, like the poor shirtmaker for bread, until, without previous warning, her candle end suddenly flickered, then expired in its socket, and left her in darkness. Rachel gently opened the window, and partly unclosed the shutter; the moon was riding in the sky above the old house opposite, her pale clear light glided over its brown walls and the quiet street, down into the

poke, blessed, thrice blessed, should ever be held the day…" And a prayer, not framed in words, but in deep feelings, gushed like a pure spring from her inmost heart. But, indeed, when did

lor, her refuge. There was familiarity and tenderness in her very love for Him; and, though she scarcely knew it herself, a deep and fervent sense of His divine humanity of those thirty-three years of ear

one, rather than as a cold master to be served, not for love, but for wages. But let it rest. Sufficient is it for

e room which she shared with her step-mother. She soon fell asleep, and dreamed that she had gone to live with her father, who said to

ing up on one elbow, "was it

you this last hour?" asked M

cked a sig

rs. Gray, rapping soundly at the

e longer, poor young th

r mother, with great determina

gn deafness, and replied, the former acting as spokeswoman, that Mrs. Gray needn't be making all that noise; for th

flowed dull, monotonous and quiet, as that of a nun in her cloister. The story of one day was the story of the next. A few hopes, a few precious thoughts she treasured

hat she could see no more to work, she put her task by

e came the laughter and the screams too of children, and of babies; and from a neighbouring forge, a loud, yet not unmusical clanking, with which now and then, blended the rude voices of the men, singing snatches of popular songs. Dimmed by the smoke of the forge, and by the natural heaviness of a Lond

Tears of delight filled her eyes; she murmured to herself verses from psalms and hymns-all praising God, all telling the beauty of God's

od has granted to man-the religious and the intellectual; if, we say, to learn this give you pleasure, you may read on to the end of the chapter; if n

anners, and but little speech; but with a gentle face, a broad forehead, and large brown eyes. By trade, she was a dress-maker, of small pretensions; her father had forsaken her early, and her step

ne mind, He had not added to it the much more common, though infinitely less precious gift, of a quick intellect. She learned slowly, with great difficulty, with sore

ainful inability, an entire powerlessness of giving the form of speech to its deepest and most fervent feelings. The infirmity generally dies off with years, perhaps because also dies off the very st

ble one. Yet, not without strife, not without suffering, did Rachel make her way. She was ignorant, and she was alone; how to ask advice she knew not, for she could not explain herself. Sometimes she seemed to see the most sublime truths, plain as in a book; at other times, th

, like a bird over her young, not for hours, not for days, but for weeks-blest in that silent meditation. Her mind was tenacious, but slow; she read few books-many would have disturbed her. Sweeter and pleasanter was it to Rachel to think over what she did read, and to treasure it up in the chambers of her mind, than to fill thos

, that Rachel was wholly unlike herself, and jealously resenting the fact, she teased her unceasingly, and did her best to interrupt the fits of meditation, which she did not scruple to term "moping." When her mind was most haunted with some fine thought, Rachel had to talk to her step-mother, to listen to her, and to t

s host of reviews, magazines, and papers, daily and weekly. Ask them to study: why, what is there they do not know, from the most futile accomplishment to the most abstruse science? Ask them too, if you like, to enter life, to view it under all its aspects; why, they have travelled over the whole earth; and life, they know from the palace down to the hovel; but bid them thi

hought sometimes, and it was a thought that made her heart bum, "Oh! that people only knew the pleasures of thinking! Oh! if people would only think!" And mom, and noon, and night, and

en of keen and great intellect, some geniuses; but only one real thinker have we kno

this story, thinking much an

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