|
The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from Life in the Iron-Mills by Rebecca Davis: is a woman, old, deformed, who takes a humble place among them:
waiting like them: in her gray dress, her worn face, pure and
meek, turned now and then to the sky. A woman much loved by
these silent, resfful people; more silent than they, more
humble, more loving. Waiting: with her eyes turned to hills
higher and purer than these on which she lives,dim and far off
now, but to be reached some day. There may be in her heart some
latent hope to meet there the love denied her here,--that she
shall find him whom she lost, and that then she will not be all-
unworthy. Who blames her? Something is lost in the passage of
every soul from one eternity to the other,--something pure and
 Life in the Iron-Mills |