"--Yes, Edith, hard enough, and work which even Emilie
can scarcely help you in. You wrestle against a powerful and a cruel
enemy, and you need great and powerful aid; but you have read your Bible
Edith, and again and again has Emilie said to you, "of yourself you can
do nothing."
Edith had had a long conversation on this very subject only that morning
with her friend, as they were walking on the sea shore, and under the
influence of the calm lovely summer's sky, and within the sound of
Emilie's clear persuasive voice, it did not seem a hard matter to Edith
to love and to be loving. She could love Fred, she could even bear a
rough pull of the hair from him, she could stand a little teasing from
John, who found fault with a new muslin frock she wore at dinner, and we
all know it is not pleasant to have our dress found fault with; but this
attack of Fred's about the book, was _not_ to be borne, not by Edith, at
least, and thus she sobbed and cried in her own room, thinking herself
the most miserable of creatures, and very indignant that Emilie did not
come to comfort her; "but she is gone out after that tiresome old woman,
with her scalt foot, I dare say," said Edith, "and she would only tell
me I was wrong if she were here--oh dear! oh dear me!" and here she
sobbed again.
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