pure air, nor how the storms looked as they rolled beneath my feet. I have received my assurance, and if the shadows should lie upon me for a century, they could never make me forgetful of the true hour. Patiently I bide my time.’
The last passage describes a peculiar illumination, to
which Margaret often referred as the period when her
earthly being culminated, and when, in the noon-tide of
loving enthusiasm, she felt wholly at one with God,
with Man, and the Universe. It was ever after, to her,
an earnest that she was of the Elect. In a letter to one
of her confidential female friends, she thus fondly looks
back to this experience on the mount of transfiguration: —
‘You know how, when the leadings of my life found
their interpretation, I longed to share my joy with those
I prized most; for I felt that if they could but understand
the past we should meet entirely. They received
me, some more, some less, according to the degree of
intimacy between our natures. But now I have done
with the past, and again move forward. The path
looks more difficult, but I am better able to bear its
trials. We shall have much communion, even if not
in the deepest places. I feel no need of isolation, but
only of temperance in thought and speech, that the
essence may not evaporate in words, but grow plenteous
within. The Life will give me to my own. I am
not yet so worthy to love as some others are, because
my manifold nature is not yet harmonized enough to
be faithful, and I begin to see how much it was the
want of a pure music in me that has made the good
