Now it was very hard for me to meet Faustina St. Clair, and
bear the supercilious air of confident triumph with which she
regarded me. I think nobody could have observed this or read
it but myself only; its tokens were too exceedingly slight
and inappreciable for anything but the tension of my own heart
to feel. I always felt it, whenever we were in company
together; and though I always said at such times, "Christian
cannot love her," - when I was at home and alone, the shadow
of doubt and jealousy came over me again. Everything withers
in that shadow. A woman must either put it out of her heart,
somehow, or grow a diseased and sickly thing, mentally and
morally. I found that I was coming to this in my own mind and
character; and that brought me to a stand.
I shut myself up one or two nights - I could not command my
days - and spent the whole night in thinking and praying. Two
things were before me. The story might be somehow untrue. Time
would show. In the meanwhile, nothing but trust would have
done honour to Mr. Thorold or to myself. I thought it was
untrue. But suppose it were not, - suppose that the joy of my
life were gone, passed over to another; who had done it? By
whose will was my life stripped? The false faith or the
weakness of friend or enemy could not have wrought thus, if it
had not been the will of God that His child should be so
tried; that she should go through just this sorrow, for some
great end or reason known only to Himself. Could I not trust
Him -?
If there is a vulture whose claws are hard to unloose from the
vitals of the spirit, I think it is jealousy. I found it had
got hold of me, and was tearing the life out of me. I knew it
in time. O sing praise to our King, you who know Him! he is
mightier than our enemies; we need not be the prey of any. But
I struggled and prayed, more than one night through, before
faith could gain the victory. Then it did. I gave the matter
into my Lord's hands. If he had decreed that I was to lose Mr.
Thorold, and in this way, - why, I was my Lord's, to do with
as He pleased; it would all be wise and glorious, and kind
too, whatever He did. I would just leave that. But in the mean
time, till I knew that He had taken my joy from me, I would
not believe it; but would go on trusting the friend I had
believed so deserving of trust. I would believe in Mr. Thorold
still and be quiet, till I knew my confidence was misplaced.