“Then I am going,” said Aunt Barbara.
“No, no, Aunt!” cried Thora, and the next moment she was at her aunt’s side coaxing her to resume her chair. Then the Bishop and Ragnor entered the room, and the moment the Bishop’s face shone upon them, all talk about leaving the room ceased. For Bishop Hedley carried his Great Commission in his face and his life was a living sermon. His soul loved all mankind; and he had with it an heroic mind and a strong-sinewed body, which refused to recognise the fact that it died daily. For the Bishop’s business was with the souls of men, and he lived and moved and did his daily work in a spiritual and eternal element.
And if constant commerce with the physical world weakens and ages the man who lives and works in it, surely the life passed amid spiritual thoughts and desires is thereby fortified and strengthened to resist the cares and worries which fret the physical body to decay. Then vainly the flesh fades, the soul makes all things new. This is a great truth––“it is only by the supernatural we are strong.”
The Bishop came in bringing with him, not only the moral tonic of his presence, but also the very 64 breath of the sea; its refreshing “tang,” and good salt flavour. His smile and blessing was a spiritual sunshine that warmed and cheered and brightened the room. He was affectionate to all, but to Mistress Brodie and Ian Macrae, he was even more kindly than to the Ragnors. They were not of his flock but he longed to take care of them.
“I heard singing as I came through the garden,” he said, “and it was not your voice, Conall.”
“It was Ian Macrae singing,” Conall answered, “and he will gladly sing for thee, sir.” This promise Macrae ratified at once, and that with such power and sweetness that every one was amazed and the Bishop requested him to sing, during the next day’s service, a fine “Gloria” he had just given them in the cathedral choir. And Ian said he would see the organist, and if it could be done, he would be delighted to obey his request.
“See the organist!” exclaimed Mistress Brodie. “What are you talking about? The organist is Sandy Odd, the barber’s son! How can the like of him hinder the Bishop’s wish?” Then the Bishop wrote a few words in his pocket book, tore out the leaf, and gave it to Macrae, saying: “Mr. Odd will manage all I wish, no doubt. Now, sir, for my great pleasure, play us ‘Home, Sweet 65 Home.’ I have not been here for four months, and it is good to be with friends again.” And they all sang it together, and were perfectly at home with each other after it. So much so, that the Bishop asked Rahal to give him a cup of tea and a little bread; “I have come from Fair Island today,” he said, “and have not eaten since noon.”
Then all the women went out together to prepare and serve the requested meal, so that it came with wonderful swiftness, and beaming smiles, and charming words of laughing pleasure. And when he saw a little table drawn to the hearth for him and quickly spread with the food he needed and smelled the refreshing odour of the young Hyson, and heard the pleasant tinkle of china and glass and silver as Thora placed them before the large chair he was to occupy, he sat down happily to eat and drink, while Thora served him, and Conall smoked and watched them with a now-and-then smile or word or two, while Rahal and Barbara talked, and Ian played charmingly––with soft pedal down––quotations from Beethoven’s “Pastoral Symphony” and “Hark, ’Tis the Linnet!” from the oratorio, “Joshua.”
It was a delightful interlude in which every one was happy in their own way, and so healed by it 66 of all the day’s disappointments and weariness. But the wise never prolong such perfect moments. Even while yielding their first satisfactions, they permit them to depart. It is a great deal to have been happy. Every such memory sweetens after life.