Part 21 (2/2)

”Let affairs take their course,” said he. ”If we don't get to meeting at all, it will not be my fault. I have done my best.”

”Mother, why don't you come?” cried Sarah, impatiently.

Mrs. Royden bustled out of the house, pulling on her gloves. Her husband helped her up very deliberately, then took his seat calmly and coolly with Father Brighthopes. At length they started, Sam holding the large gate open as they drove through.

”Hepsy!” cried Mrs. Royden, looking back.

Mr. Royden stopped the horses.

”You needn't stop. I can tell her what I want to.”

”If you have any directions for her, we may as well wait,” said he, quietly.

”Drive on, if you are in such a hurry,” retorted Mrs. Royden. ”I only wanted to tell her something about the spare-rib. I thought I could make her understand.”

They now flew over the ground at a rapid rate, until Willie began to scream.

”Oh, my hat! my hat!”

”Father, why don't you stop?” exclaimed Mrs. Royden, grasping her husband's arm.

”Whoa! whoa! What is the matter?”

”Willie's hat has blown off.”

This seemed the climax of disasters. Willie's hat lay in the road, already forty yards behind. Mrs. Royden began to scold Sarah for not attending to the strings, and tying them so that it could not be lost.

Meanwhile Mr. Royden, struggling with his temper, got down and went back for the hat. On his return, his wife seized it, and, in no very pleasant mood, put it on Willie's head,--reprimanding Mr. Royden for moving so slowly.

”I have made up my mind that it is best never to be in a hurry,” he replied, in a gentle tone.

However, he drove very fast, and arrived at the meeting-house steps shortly after the last peals of the bell died upon the air. Nothing he disliked more than to go in late; but he was a little cheered at seeing the Dustans, who lived so near, roll up to the graveled walks, in their grand carriage, while he was helping his family out.

XVII.

FATHER BRIGHTHOPES IN THE PULPIT.

During all the unpleasant hurry and confusion of the morning, Father Brighthopes had remained beautifully serene. He seemed to enjoy the ride on that still Sabbath--so different, in its calm and quiet loveliness, from all other days in the week--as much as if nothing inharmonious had occurred. But he was more thoughtful than usual, talking little, as if his meditations took a higher and holier range than on common occasions.

His venerable aspect attracted general attention, as he entered the aisle with the family, at the close of the prayer. His aged form was slightly bent, his calm eyes downcast, and his step very soft and light; while his countenance beamed with a meek and childlike expression of reverence and love.

The old man seated himself with his relatives, in a humble att.i.tude; but Mr. Corlis, after reading the hymn, invited him, through Deacon Dustan, to come up into the pulpit. He could not well refuse, although he would have preferred to remain in his obscure position. He ascended the hidden stairway, which always looked so mysterious to young children, and soon his fine, n.o.ble head, with its expansive forehead, and thin, white locks of hair, appeared above the crimson cus.h.i.+ons of the desk.

From the pulpit, he glanced his eye over the congregation, as they arose with the singers and stood during the hymn. He was very happy, looking kindly down upon so many strangers, who seemed all dear brothers and sisters to his great heart,--near relations and friends, no less than they who sat in Mr. Royden's pew, and Sarah and Chester in the choir.

The sermon was one of the best Mr. Corlis had ever preached. It was not so flowery as many of his discourses, nor so deep in doctrinal research as others, but it contained more practical Christianity than any of his previous productions. When Father Brighthopes, who was agreeably disappointed in its character, expressed his gratification to his younger brother, at its close, the latter should, perhaps, have confessed how much of its merits were owing to his influence; for, after his interview with the old clergyman, Mr. Corlis, touched to the quick by new convictions of duty, had re-written a large portion of the sermon prepared during the week, and poured into it something of the vital spirit of love and truth which had been awakened within him.

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