Faith did not
crumble, but, at a second glance, appeared to her wholly compatible with
obedience to this demand. There was an electric force in every word of the
letter. It proved Mister Jan's wondrous nobility of character, his
unselfishness, his love. He had suffered, too, had longed eternally for
her, had denied himself out of consideration for her future happiness, had
struggled with his love, and only broken down and given way to it in the
shadow of death. Grief shook Joan upon this thought, but joy was uppermost.
The long months of weary suffering faded from her recollection as nocturnal
mists vanish at the touch of the sun's first fire. She had no power to
analyze the position or reflect upon the various courses of action the man
might have taken to spare her so much agony. She accepted his bald
utterance word for word, as he knew she would. Every inclination and desire
swept her toward him now. His cry of suffering, his love, his loneliness,
her duty, as it stood blazoned upon her mind ten minutes after reading his
letter; the child to be born within two months--all these considerations
united to establish Joan's mind at this juncture. "Come to me!" Those were
the words echoing within her heart, and her soul cried upon Christ to
shorten time that she might reach him the sooner. Before the world was next
awake, she would be upon her way; before another night fell, Mister Jan's
arms would be round her.
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