It had drizzled all the morning from the clouds as well as from
the pulpit, but, just as Mary stepped out of the kitchen-door,
the sun stepped out of the last rain-cloud. She walked quickly
from the town, eager for the fields and the trees, but in some
dread of finding Tom Helmer at the stile; for he was such a fool,
she said to herself, that there was no knowing what he might do,
for all she had said; but he had thought better of it, and she
was soon crossing meadows and cornfields in peace, by a path
which, with many a winding, and many an up and down, was the
nearest way to Thornwick.
The saints of old did well to pray God to lift on them the light
of his countenance: has the Christian of the new time learned of
his Master that the clouds and the sunshine come and go of
themselves? If the sunshine fills the hearts of old men and babes
and birds with gladness and praise, and God never meant it, then
are they all idolaters, and have but a careless Father. Sweet
earthy odors rose about Mary from the wet ground; the rain-drops
glittered on the grass and corn-blades and hedgerows; a soft damp
wind breathed rather than blew about the gaps and gates; with an
upward springing, like that of a fountain momently gathering
strength, the larks kept shooting aloft, there, like music-
rockets, to explode in showers of glowing and sparkling song;
while, all the time and over all, the sun as he went down kept
shining in the might of his peace; and the heart of Mary praised
her Father in heaven.
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