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The Seaboard Parish, Volume 2
The Seaboard Parish Volume 2
CHAPTER I.
ANOTHER SUNDAY EVENING
In the evening we met in Connie's room, as usual, to have our talk. And this is what came out of it.
The window was open. The sun was in the west. We sat a little aside out of the course of his radiance, and let him look full into the room. Only Wynnie sat back in a dark corner, as if she would get out of his way. Below him the sea lay bluer than you could believe even when you saw it—blue with a delicate yet deep silky blue, the exquisiteness of which was thrown up by the brilliant white lines of its lapping on the high coast, to the northward. We had just sat down, when Dora broke out with—
"I saw Niceboots at church. He did stare at you, papa, as if he had never heard a sermon before."
"I daresay he never heard such a sermon before!" said Connie, with the perfect confidence of inexperience and partiality—not to say ignorance, seeing she had not heard the sermon herself.
Here Wynnie spoke from her dark corner, apparently forcing herself to speak, and thereby giving what seemed an unpleasant tone to what she said.
"Well, papa, I don't know what to think. You are always telling us to trust in Him; but how can we, if we are not good?"
"The first good thing you can do is to look up to him. That is the beginning of trust in him, and the most sensible thing that it is possible for us to do. That is faith."
"But it's no use sometimes."
"How do you know that?"
"Because you—I mean I—can't feel good, or care about it at all."