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Opening the book at random, I read the words: "A land unapportioned that shall produce a nourisher of humanity, a being that shall put forth the bounty of his hand to feed every creature." "A nourisher of humanity." Before my eyes that "nourisher" lay outspread, a nourisher overlaid with dry and fragrant herbage.
The topmost corner of the field merged into a rocky wilderness of stunted heath and patches of burnt grass, studded with harebells, and this unapportioned piece of ground stretched away into the adjoining corner of the Vicar's long meadow.
Captain Horn and Edna had not yet fully planned their future life, but they knew that they had enough money to allow them to select any sphere of life toward which ordinary human ambitions would be apt to point, and if they never received another bar of the unapportioned treasure, they would not only be preeminently satisfied with what fortune had done for them, but would be relieved of the great responsibilities which greater fortune must bring with it.
All these variant products of a brief acquaintance, though he dwelt on them as luxuries, failed to give him satisfaction, they formed a fretful and at times a tormenting accompaniment to his unapportioned days. At his hours of rising and setting the thought would insistently recur to him: "Now, perhaps even now, she is praying for me."
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