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Rh and superstitious folly of the convent were becoming every day more and more distasteful. Beatrice, too, had opened another source of remorse to her companion. Hitherto, Emily had never considered the rash step she had taken in a religious point of view. Like too many others, religion had been with her matter of general acknowledgment and general observance. She repeated her prayers, because she had been accustomed so to do; she went to church, because others did; but she had never looked to her God for support—to her Bible for a rule of action. There are more practical infidels from indifference than from disbelief. Beatrice was at first astonished to find how little interest the English girl, who had been brought up in a faith so pure, so Christian, took in subjects that were to her of such vital importance. We ask for miracles: is not our own blindness a perpetual miracle? We live amid the blessings that Christianity has diffused through the smallest occurrences of our daily life;—we feel hourly within us that pining for some higher state, whose promise is in the Gospel;—our weakness daily forces us to look around for support;—we admit the perfection of the