What regret we sometimes feel, after the death or departure of friends, at
never having shown them the respect, the gratitude, we felt towards them,
and how from the depths of our heart we are filled with tenderness and
affection for them!
It may have been that at times we could not speak, because we thought too
much of _how_ to say it.
Another time we lost the opportunity, because we were always shirking it.
Deep devotion is sometimes a little erratic; always afraid of doing too
little, doing it badly or inopportunely. Oftener still the tokens of
affection are checked, because we think we could show it in some better
way; we put off till brighter days the dreams we cherished, the sweet
yearning to open the heart to the loved ones, and let them see for once
what a large place they fill there.
Alas! the days fly past, suddenly comes death, or, sadder still,
separation without hope of return, leaving the bitter thought: "Others
will show them better than I have done, how dear, how valued, they are."
Ah! when we can be loving _to-day_, never let us say, "I will love
to-morrow;" when we have the opportunity of being grateful, never put off,
for _one_ hour, the proof of our gratitude!
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