Magnus to tell
her--that there was something in this religion--yes, even in the
wretched dirt and disorder of her father's soul--but with that
realisation that there was indeed something, had come also the
resolved conviction that life could not be happy, simple, successful
unless one broke from that power utterly, refused its dictates, gave
no hearing to its messages, surrendered nothing--absolutely nothing-
-to its influence. Had not some one said to her once, or was it not
in her little red A Kempis, that "once caught one might never escape
again"?
She would prove that, in her own struggle and independence, to be
untrue. The chapel should not have her, nor her father's ghost, nor
the dim half-visualised thoughts and memories that rose like dark
shadows in her soul and vanished again. She would believe in nothing
save what she could see, listen to nothing that was not clear and
simple before her. She was mistress of her own soul.
She did not, in this fashion, think things out for herself. To
herself she simply expressed it that she was going to lead her own
life, to earn her own living, to fight for herself; and that the
sooner she escaped this gloomy, damp, and ill-tempered house the
better.
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