Part 9 (2/2)
”I am afraid you will not be able to get through the forenoon,” she replied.
”Nay, don't tempt me,” he said playfully, as she insisted on the pie.
”My const.i.tution was never strong; and, with my sedentary habits, I should never have reached the age of seventy-two, if I had not early learned to control my appet.i.tes. It is better to go hungry from a loaded table, than run the risk of an indigestion.”
”Are you _seventy-two_?” asked Mr. Royden, in a sad tone.
”The twelfth day of October next is my seventy-second birthday,” replied the old man, cheerfully. ”Don't you think I have lasted pretty well?”
”Is it possible that you are twenty-eight years older than I?” exclaimed the other.
”Do I not look as old?”
”When your countenance is in repose, perhaps you do; but when you talk,--why, you don't look over fifty-five, if you do that.”
”I have observed it,” said Sarah. ”When you speak your soul s.h.i.+nes through your face.”
”And the soul is always young. G.o.d be praised for that!” replied Mr.
Rensford, with a happy smile on his lips, and a tear of thankfulness in his eye. ”G.o.d be praised for that!”
”But the souls of most men begin to wither the day they enter the world,” remarked Chester, bitterly. ”Perhaps, in your sphere of action, you have avoided the cares of life,--the turmoil and jar of the noisy, selfish world.”
”Heaven has been merciful to me,” said the old man, softly. ”Yet my years have been years of labor; and of sorrow I have seen no little.
Persecution has not always kept aloof from my door.”
”Oh, few men have had so much to go through!” spoke up Mr. Royden, in a tone of sympathy. ”The wonder is, how you have kept your brow so free from wrinkles, and your spirit so clear from clouds.”
”When the frosts have stolen upon me, when the cold winds have blown,”
replied Mr. Rensford, in a tone so touching that it was felt by every one present, ”I have prayed Heaven to keep the leaves of my heart green, and the flowers of my soul fresh and fragrant. The sunlight of love was showered upon me in return. I managed to forget my petty trials, in working for my poor, unhappy brethren. My wife went to heaven before me; my child followed her, and I was left at one time all alone, it seemed.
But something within me said, 'They whom thou hast loved are in bliss; repine not therefore, but do thy work here with a cheerful spirit, and be thankful for all G.o.d's mercies.'”
”I understand now how you got the familiar name I have heard you called by,” said Mr. Royden, with emotion.
”Yes,”--and the old man's fine countenance glowed with grat.i.tude,--”it has pleased my friends to give me an appellation which is the only thing in the world I am proud of,--_Father Brighthopes_. Is it possible,” he added, with tears in his eyes, ”that I have deserved such a t.i.tle? Has my work been done so cheerfully, has my faith been so manifest in my life, that men have crowned me with this comforting a.s.surance that my prayers for grace have been answered?”
”Then you would be pleased if we called you by this name?”
”You will make me happy by giving me the honorable t.i.tle. No other, in the power of kings to bestow, could tempt me to part with it. As long as you find me sincere in my faith and conduct, call me _Father Brighthopes_. When I turn to the dark side of life, and waste my breath in complaining of the clouds, instead of rejoicing in the suns.h.i.+ne, then disgrace me by taking away my t.i.tle.”
”I wish more of us had your disposition,” said Mr. Royden, with a sad shake of the head.
”There is no disposition so easy, and which goes so smoothly through the world,” replied the old man, smiling.
Mr. Royden felt the force of the remark, but, being a man of exceedingly fine nerves, he did not think it would be possible for him to break up his habit of fretfulness, in the midst of all the annoyances which strewed his daily path with thorns. He said as much to his aged friend.
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