"They make me think that the Black Country is a wilderness that we are all travelling through; and over it there is always the pillar of cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night, to tell us which way to go.

I make up tales to myself about the people in the wilderness; and how they watch the pillar, and how it keeps them from idling in their work, or selling bad iron, or doing anything that is horrid or mean, because it is a sign to them that God is with them, just as it used to be to the Children of Israel." Christopher looked up from his work.

Here was the old problem: Elisabeth did not think about religion half as much as he did, and yet the helpful and beautiful thoughts came to her and not to him.

Still, it was comforting to know that the smoke and the glare, which he had hated, could convey such a message; and he made up his mind not to hate them any more.
"And then I pretend that the people come out of the wilderness and go to live in the country over there," Elisabeth continued, pointing to the distant hills; "and I make up lovely tales about that country, and all the beautiful things there.

That is what is so nice about hills: you always think there are such wonderful places on the other side of them." For some minutes Christopher worked silently, and Elisabeth watched him.
Then the latter said suddenly: "Isn't it funny that you never hate people in a morning, however much you may have hated them the night before ?" "Don't you ?" Rapid changes of sentiment were beyond Christopher's comprehension.