And now, in her dark hours, Joan happily
did not turn to feed upon her own heart, but fled from it. For distraction
she read the four Gospels feverishly day by day, and she prayed long to the
Lord of them by night.
Mary helped her in an earnest, cheerless fashion, and before her cousin's
solicitude, Joan's eyes opened to another thought: the old friendship
between Mary and Joe Noy. It had wakened once, on her first arrival at
Drift, then slept again till now. She was troubled to see the other woman's
indifference, and she formed plans to bring these two together again. The
act of getting away from herself and thinking for others brought some
comfort to her heart and seemed to rise indirectly out of her reading.
The Christianity of Drift was old-fashioned, and reflected the Founder. No
distractions rose between Joan and the story. She took it at first hand,
escaping thus from those petty follies and fooleries which blight and fog
the real issues today. She sucked her new faith pure. A noble rule of
conduct lay before her; she dimly discerned something of its force; and
unselfishness appeared in her, proving that she had read aright. As for the
dogma, she opened her arms to that very readily because it was beautiful
and promised so much. Faith's votaries never turn critical eyes upon the
foundations of her gorgeous fabric; their sight is fixed aloft on the
rainbow towers and pinnacles, upon the golden fanes.
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