She would not question it or reason about it, perhaps with an instinct
to avert its destruction; she simply drew it deeply into her content.
Only its sweet deception did not stay with her, and she let that go with
open hands. She wanted, more than ever, the whole of Stephen Arnold, all
that was so openly the Mission's and all that was so evidently God's. It
will be seen that she felt in no way compelled to advise him of this,
her backsliding. I doubt whether such a perversion of her magnificent
course of action ever occurred to her. It was magnificent, for it
entailed a high disregarding stroke; it implied a sublime confidence of
what the end would be, a capacity to wait and endure. She smiled
buoyantly, in the intervals of arranging it, at the idea that Stephen
Arnold stood beyond her ultimate possession.
There were difficulties, but the moment was favourable to her, more
favourable than it would have been the year before, or any year but
this. Before ten days had passed she was able to write to Arnold
describing her plan, and she was put to it to keep the glow of success
out of her letter. She kept it out, that, and everything but a calm and
humble statement--any Clarke Brother might have dictated it--of what she
proposed to do.
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