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feel for you； for I could be content without your marrying me if I
could go and live at Snowfield and be near you。 I trusted as the
strong love God has given me towards you was a leading for us
both； but it seems it was only meant for my trial。 Perhaps I feel
more for you than I ought to feel for any creature； for I often can’t
help saying of you what the hymn says—
In darkest shades if she appear；
My dawning is begun；
She is my soul’s bright morning…star；
And she my rising sun。
That may be wrong； and I am to be taught better。 But you
wouldn’t be displeased with me if things turned out so as I could
leave this country and go to live at Snowfield？”
“No； Seth； but I counsel you to wait patiently； and not lightly to
leave your own country and kindred。 Do nothing without the
Lord’s clear bidding。 It’s a bleak and barren country there； not like
this land of Goshen you’ve been used to。 We mustn’t be in a hurry
to fix and choose our own lot； we must wait to be guided。”
“But you’d let me write you a letter； Dinah； if there was
anything I wanted to tell you？”
“Yes； sure； let me know if you’re in any trouble。 You’ll be
continually in my prayers。”
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They had now reached the yard…gate； and Seth said； “I won’t go
in； Dinah； so farewell。” He paused and hesitated after she had
given him her hand； and then said； “There’s no knowing but what
you may see things different after a while。 There may be a new
leading。”
“Let us leave that； Seth。 It’s good to live only a moment at a
time； as I’ve read in one of Mr。 Wesley’s books。 It isn’t for you and
me to lay plans； we’ve nothing to do but to obey and to trust。
Farewell。”
Dinah pressed his hand with rather a sad look in her loving
eyes； and then passed through the gate； while Seth turned away to
walk lingeringly home。 But instead of taking the direct road； he
chose to turn back along the fields through which he and Dinah
had already passed； and I think his blue linen handkerchief was
very wet with tears long before he had made up his mind that it
was time for him to set his face steadily homewards。 He was but
three…and…twenty； and had only just learned what it is to love—to
love with that adoration which a young man gives to a woman
whom he feels to be greater and better than himself。 Love of this
sort is hardly distinguishable from religious feeling。 What deep
and worthy love is so； whether of woman or child； or art or music。
Our caresses； our tender words； our still rapture under the
influence of autumn sunsets； or pillared vistas； or calm majestic
statues； or Beethoven symphonies all bring with them the
consciousness that they are mere waves and ripples in an
unfathomable ocean of love and beauty； our emotion in its keenest
moment passes from expression into silence； our love at its highest
flood rushes beyond its object and loses itself in the sense of divine
mystery。 And this blessed gift of venerating love has been given to
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Adam Bede 50
too many humble craftsmen since the world began for us to feel
any surprise that it should have existed in the soul of a Methodist
carpenter half a century ago； while there was yet a lingering after…
glow from the time when Wesley and his fellow…labourer fed on
the hips and haws of the Cornwall hedges； after exhausting limbs
and lungs in carrying a divine message to the poor。
That after…glow has long faded away； and the picture we are apt
to make of Methodism in our imagination is not an amphitheatre
of green hills； or the deep shade of broad…leaved sycamores； where
a crowd of rough men and weary…hearted women drank in a faith
which was a rudimentary culture； which linked their thoughts
with the past； lifted their imagination above the sordid details of
their own narrow lives； and suffused their souls with the sense of a
pitying； loving； infinite Presence； sweet as summer to the
houseless needy。 It is too possible that to some of my readers
Methodism may mean nothing more than low…pitched gables up
dingy streets； sleek grocers； sponging preachers； and hypocritical
jargon—elements which are regarded as an exhaustive analysis of
Methodism in many fashionable quarters。
That would be a pity； for I cannot pretend that Seth and Dinah
were anything else than Methodists—not indeed of that modern
type which reads quarterly reviews and attends in chapels with
pillared porticoes； but of a very old…fashioned kind。 They believed
in present miracles； in instantaneous conversions； in revelations
by dreams and visions； they drew lots； and sought for Divine
guidance by opening the Bible at hazard； having a literal way of
interpreting the Scriptures； which is not at all sanctioned by
approved commentators； and it is impossible for me to represent
their diction as correct； or their instruction as liberal。 Still—if I
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have read religious history aright—faith； hope； and charity have
not always been found in a direct ratio with a sensibility to the
three concords； and it is possible—thank Heaven！—to have very
erroneous theories and very sublime feelings。 The raw bacon
which clumsy Molly spares from her own scanty store that she
may carry it to her neighbour’s child to “stop the fits；” may be a
piteously inefficacious remedy； but the generous stirring of
neighbourly kindness that prompted the deed