It seemed to her vivid fancy as if all the
misfortunes she had encountered sprung from her first sin--that
of loving a Nazarene. Hers was not the age to make allowances for
circumstances in contradistinction to actual deeds. Then, as
unhappily but too often now, all were sufferings from a misplaced
affection--sprung, not from her fault, but from the mistaken kindness
which it exposed her to without due warning of her danger. Educated
with the strong belief, that to love or wed, beyond the pale of her
own people was the greatest sin she could commit, short of actual
apostacy, that impression, though not strong enough, so to conquer
human nature, as to arm against love, returned with double force, as
sorrow after sorrow gathered round her, and there were none beside her
to whisper and strengthen, with the blessed truth that God afflicts
yet more in mercy than in wrath; and that his decrees, however fraught
with human anguish, are but blessings in disguise--blessings, sown
indeed with tears on earth, to reap their deathless fruit in heaven.
But though firmly believing all her suffering was deserved, aware that
when she first loved Arthur, the rebel-thought--"Why am I of a race so
apart and hated?" had very frequently entered her heart, tempting her
at times with fearful violence to give up all for love of man; yet
Marie knew that the God of her fathers was a God of love, calling even
upon the greatest sinner to return to him repentant and amending, and
that even as a little child such should be forgiven.
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