“Somehow—I did not like to say God—as if He looked after a man’s real estate speculations.”
“He looks after everything. The silver and the gold are His; the world and the fulness thereof. I have never read, nor yet ever heard tell, that He has grown weary of watching; or that His arm is shortened or weakened, or that He has delegated to fortune, or chance, or fate, or destiny, or any other power, His own work of shaping a man’s life. If I did not know this, I should feel as all disbelievers must feel—alone and abandoned in the vast universe.”
“In great things, father.”
“In everything. Can you tell what things are great, and what things are little? From the most apparently trifling affairs have come wars and revolutions, which have turned the earth upside down, and ‘glutted the throat of Hell with ghosts.’ God gave you every dollar you have; and to Him you will have to render an account of its usage. Now, as to Miss Filmer. If you have money, I see no reason to fear you will not be acceptable. You are both branches from the same root—though she may be a bit the highest up; and I do think you are as good a man, and as handsome a man, as I know anywhere.”
Praise so distinct and unqualified was a rare gift from Peter; and Antony looked into his father’s face with grateful pleasure. The old man nodded slightly, as if to reaffirm his opinions, and then continued, “Talk to Mr. Filmer at once. It is the best plan.”
“It is too early yet. I must have permission from Rose to go on that message. There is nothing definite between us.”
“It is a pity. She goes to the city—into the world—other young men will seek her.”
“Good! She must choose freely. I may only have been a country makeshift, and I do not care to be Hobson’s choice with any girl. I would rather be left altogether.”
“Right. Suppose you ride to Grey’s Gate with me? There is a horse for sale there that I would like to buy.”