The chief aim of her struggle in the laboratory had not been
to acquire knowledge and usefulness--that she could do, she knew; her
real aim had been to give to Karl's work the things she had always given
to her own. With a divided soul she could do no more for him than any
other assistant. She was seeking to give him herself. Oh no--it was
simple enough; she had no thought of offering Karl an empty vessel.
Her mind saw it all, her will never wavered, but the bruised, conquered
spirit quivered under the pain. A long time she sat there, and as the
hour went by a strange thing happened. The pictures were healing the
spirit which they had torn. As they had first moved her to the frenzy
for achievement, had then left her with the pain of relinquishment,
they were bringing her now something of the balm of peace. How big they
were!--first passion, then pain, then understanding, now strength.
Ernestine came in that hour to see a great truth. It was something she
worked out for herself, something taught her by life and her own heart,
and that is why it reached her soul as it could never have done had she
but read it in books.
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