Or, to use a different
simile, when the Moses-rod of circumstance does not strike the rock and
make the waters flow, such a mind--one that must think to live--will go
digging into itself, and is in danger of injuring the very fountain of
thought, by drawing away its living water into ditches and stagnant pools.
This was, I say, the case in part with my Wynnie, although I did not
understand it at that moment. She did not look quite happy, did not always
meet a smile with a smile, looked almost reprovingly upon the frolics of
the little brother-imps, and though kindness itself when any real hurt or
grief befell them, had reverted to her old, somewhat dictatorial manner,
of which I have already spoken as interrupted by Connie's accident. To her
mother and me she was service itself, only service without the smile which
is as the flame of the sacrifice and makes it holy. So we were both a
little uneasy about her, for we did not understand her. On the journey she
had seemed almost annoyed at Connie's ecstasies, and said to Dora many
times: "Do be quiet, Dora;" although there was not a single creature but
ourselves within hearing, and poor Connie seemed only delighted with the
child's explosions.
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