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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"The Flight of the Shadow"

It was a beautiful
thing to see how uncle Edmund revived and expanded in the light of his
brother's presence, until he grew plainly himself. He had suffered more
than my own uncle, and had not had an orphan child to love and be loved
by.
What a drive home that was! Paris, anywhere seemed home now! I had John
and my uncles; John had me and my uncle; my uncles had each other; and I
suspect, if we could have looked into Martha, we should have seen that
she, through her lovely unselfishness, possessed us all more than any one
of us another. Oh the outbursts of gladness on the way!--the talks!--the
silences! The past fell off like an ugly veil from the true face of
things; the present was sunshine; the future a rosy cloud.
When we reached our hotel, it was dinner-time, and John ordered
champagne. He and I were hungry as two happy children; the brothers ate
little, and scarcely drank. They were too full of each other to have room
for any animal need. A strange solemnity crowned and dominated their
gladness. Each was to the other a Lazarus given back from the grave. But
to understand the depth of their rapture, you must know their story. That
of Martha and Mary and Lazarus could not have equalled it but for the
presence of the Master, for neither sisters nor brother had done each
other any wrong. They looked to me like men walking in a luminous mist--a
mist of unspeakable suffering radiant with a joy as unspeakable--the very
stuff to fashion into glorious dreams.


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