Chapter 41
Death Comes Without Warning
LI. THE JOURNEY’S END. I see my way as birds their trackless way— I shall arrive! what time, what circuit first, I ask not: but unless God sends his hail Or blinding fire-balls, sleet, or stifling snow, In some time—his good time—I shall arrive; He guides me and the bird. In His good time! BROWNING’S PARACELSUS. So the winter was getting on, and the days were beginning to lengthen, without bringing with them any of the brightness of hope which usually accompanies the rays of a February sun. Mrs. Thornton had of course entirely ceased to come to the house.…
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