Beulah - Page 269/348

"Beulah, she had the Bible, which promises eternal life. If she

entirely rejected it, she did so voluntarily and deliberately; but

only God knows the heart--only her Maker can judge her. I trust that

even in the last hour the mists rolled from her mind."

Beulah knew better, but said nothing; it was enough to have

witnessed that darkened soul's last hour on earth. As the carriage

stopped at her door Mrs. Asbury said: "My dear Beulah, stay with me to-night. I think I can help you to

find what you are seeking so earnestly."

Beulah shrank back, and answered: "No, no. No one can help me; I must help myself. Some other time I

will come."

The rain fell heavily as she reached her own home, and she went to

her room with a heaviness of heart almost unendurable. She sat down

on the rug before the fire, and threw her arms up over a chair, as

she was wont to do in childhood; and, as she remembered that the

winter rain now beat pitilessly on the grave of one who had never

known privation, nor aught of grief that wealth could shield her

from, she moaned bitterly. What lamp had philosophy hung in the

sable chambers of the tomb? The soul was impotent to explain its

origin--how, then, could it possibly read the riddle of final

destiny? Psychologists had wrangled for ages over the question of

'ideas.' Were infants born with or without them? Did ideas arise or

develop them selves independently of experience? The affirmation or

denial of this proposition alone distinguished the numerous schools,

which had so long wrestled with psychology; and if this were

insolvable, how could human intellect question further? Could it

bridge the gulf of Death, and explore the shores of Eternity?