But in that long interval Dinah had made great
advances in household cleverness, and this morning, since Seth was there
to help, she was bent on bringing everything to a pitch of cleanliness
and order that would have satisfied her Aunt Poyser. The cottage was far
from that standard at present, for Lisbeth's rheumatism had forced her
to give up her old habits of dilettante scouring and polishing. When the
kitchen was to her mind, Dinah went into the new room, where Adam had
been writing the night before, to see what sweeping and dusting were
needed there. She opened the window and let in the fresh morning air,
and the smell of the sweet-brier, and the bright low-slanting rays of
the early sun, which made a glory about her pale face and pale auburn
hair as she held the long brush, and swept, singing to herself in a very
low tone--like a sweet summer murmur that you have to listen for very
closely--one of Charles Wesley's hymns:
Eternal Beam of Light Divine,
Fountain of unexhausted love,
In whom the Father's glories shine,
Through earth beneath and heaven above;
Jesus! the weary wanderer's rest,
Give me thy easy yoke to bear;
With steadfast patience arm my breast,
With spotless love and holy fear.
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