And I have felt a good
deal of secret contempt for her father, with his moods and tenses,
his pill-boxes and his plasters, his feastings and his fastings. I do
not understand how a Christian can make such slow progress as I do,
and how old faults can hang on so.
If I had made any real progress, should I not be sensible of it?
I have been reading over the early part of this journal, and when I
came to the conversation I had with Mrs. Cabot, in which I made a
list of my wants, I was astonished that I could ever have had such
contemptible ones. Let me think what I really and truly most want
now.
First of all, then, if God should speak to me at this moment and
offer to give just one thing, and that alone, I should say without
hesitation,
Love to Thee, O my Master!
Next to that, if I could have one thing more, I would choose to be a
thoroughly unselfish, devoted wife. Down in my secret heart I know
there lurks another wish, which I am ashamed of. It is that in some
way or other, some right way, I could be delivered from Martha and
her father. I shall never be any better while they are here to tempt
me!
FEBRUARY 1.-Ernest spoke to-day of one of his patients, a Mrs.
Campbell, who is a great sufferer, but whom he describes as the
happiest, most cheerful person he ever met. He rarely speaks of his
patients. Indeed, he rarely speaks of anything.
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