away from my gloom.
As far as she was able, she gave me comfort.
But as my thoughts were then much led to religious subjects, she sought to learn my religious experience, and listened to it with great interest.
I told her how I had sat in darkness for two long years, waiting for the light, and in full faith that it would come; how I had kept my soul patient and quiet,—had surrendered self — will to God's will,—had watched and waited till at last His great mercy came in an infinite peace to my soul.
Margaret was never weary of asking me concerning this state, and said, “I would gladly give all my talents and knowledge for such an experience as this.”
‘Several years after,’ continues this friend,
I was travelling with her, and we sat, one lovely night, looking at the river, as it rolled beneath the yellow moonlight.
We spoke again of God's light in the soul, and I said— “Margaret!
has that light dawned on your soul?”
She answered, “I think it has. But, oh!
it is so glorious that I fear it will not be permanent, and so precious that I dare not speak of it, lest it should be gone.”
‘That was the whole of our conversation, and I did not speak to her again concerning it.’
Before this time, however, during her residence at Cambridge
, she seemed to reach the period of her existence in which she descended lowest into the depths of gloom.
She felt keenly, at this time, the want of a home for her heart.
Full of a profound tendency toward life, capable of an ardent love, her affections were thrown back on her heart, to become stagnant, and for a while to grow bitter there.
Then it was that she felt how empty and worthless were all the attainments and triumphs of the mere intellect; then it was that ‘she went ’