Heaven was indeed a pleasanter
eternal fact than hell; yet the place of torment existed on Bible
authority; and it was idle to suppose it existed for nothing. Grasping
eternity as a truth, she occupied herself in strenuous preparation; which
preparation took the form of good works and personal self-denial. Joan
belonged to an order of emotional creatures widely different. She loved the
beautiful for its own sake, kept her face to the sun when it shone,
shivered and shut up like a scarlet pimpernel if bad weather was abroad.
And now a chastened sunshine, daily growing stronger, shot through the
present clouds, painted beauty on their fringes, and lighted the darkness
of their recesses so that even the secrets of suffering were fitfully
revealed. Joan grasped at new thoughts, the outcome of her new road.
Nature presently seemed of a nobler face, and certain immemorial
achievements of man also flashed out in the side-light of the new
convictions; as objects, themselves inconsiderable, will suddenly develop
unsuspected splendors from change of standpoint in the beholder. The magic
of that Christianity, which Joan now received directly from her Bible,
wrought and embroidered a new significance into many things. And it worked
upon none as upon the old crosses, some perfect still, some ruined as to
arm or shaft, some quite worn out and gnawed by time from their original
semblance.
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