but I do believe she has the 'hope that will perish.' I just took no notice of her, and came away. As I was passing through the kitchen, Sukey says to me, "Mrs. Wilson may look out for other help, for now Miss Jane, the only righteous one, is gone out from us, I sha'nt stay to hear nothing but disputings, and scoldings, and prayers." But, says I, Sukey, you don't object to the prayers? Yes, says she, I don't like lip-prayers—it is nothing but a mockery."
"Sukey has too much reason," replied Jane. "But now, Mary, you must not think from what you have seen that I am not happy, for I have reason to be grateful, and I ought to be very, very happy."
'Ought,' thought Mary, 'she may be contented, and resigned, and even cheerful, because she ought—but happiness is not duty-work.' However, she had discretion enough to suppress her homely metaphysics; and patting Jane's head affectionately, she replied, "Yes, my child, and if you wish it, I will set these tears down for tears of joy, not sorrow." Jane smiled at her friend's unwonted sophistry, and they parted: Mary, confirmed in a favourite notion, that every allotment of Providence is designed as a trial for the character; that all will finally work together for good; and that Jane was going on in the path to perfection, which, though no methodist, she was not (in her partial friend's opinion,) far from attaining. Jane was very much relieved by Mary's wise suggestions and sincere sympathy.
