Mrs. Thorpe was to accompany him, and they planned to spend the summer with an uncle who lived in a small village in an adjoining state. This uncle was a retired minister, who for forty years had preached the Gospel. Now with his wife still beside him, he was spending what was left of his life in well-earned peace and quiet. He sent an earnest invitation to his nephew to come to him and spend his vacation in this quiet, restful village.
After the vacation was arranged, and the invitation accepted, Mr. Thorpe threw himself with all of his remaining strength and energy into the preparation of a farewell sermon. He desired this to be of high excellence, and especially adapted to the occasion; he wished to say something that would appeal to the hearts of his people, and cause them to remember him, and to be ready to welcome him back in the autumn. For days he worked on this sermon, comparing words and phrases, seeking just the shade of meaning he desired, harmonizing sentences, and striving for an agreeable rise and flow of language.
Mrs. Thorpe, who had attended church for several Sundays, accompanied her husband on this last Sunday morning. She walked beside him now with easy grace, and mingled with her friends and seemed not to notice their wondering looks and incredulous glances; she met them without self-consciousness, neither shrinking nor boasting.
When the pastor entered the pulpit, and the deep, sweet tones of the organ sounded, her soul glad and worshipful, left every care and material thought. Then she heard her husband's voice in prayer, praying for his people, and for the great world of humanity. But she did not follow the prayer closely; her new conception of God's creation enabled her to know that the Lord's blessing was already upon these people, that they needed only to realize and accept it. She saw toiling millions begging for a blessing that has been theirs forever, and that can never in any manner possibly cease to be theirs.
For his text the pastor had taken, "To him that overcometh," and he dwelt largely on the reward ready for those who are able to endure to the end.
As the sermon progressed, Mrs. Thorpe was reminded of her old troubled conception of the Father and His children in the field. She did not wonder that this idea had once possessed her; for was not this the very interpretation of life that her husband was presenting? But now before her vision she saw a kind and compassionate Father, and man in His spiritual likeness.
She had found that the propensity of mortal man to worship images of belief that he himself has created, rather than to hold as his own that which God has created for him, and has bestowed without limit or stint upon him, is the cause of man's woe, the cause of all his grief and pain. God has given man only good; He could give nothing else, for He has created or fashioned nothing else. She heard the sermon through, however, without inward questioning or discord. Since the deep, sweet Truth of life had become the bread and wine of her existence she was not troubled by another's conception of truth. All truth, however small, however great, is a part of the Truth, just as every drop of the ocean, or rippling wave, or mighty billow is a part of the sea.
Mrs. Thorpe knew something of the hard toil and effort this sermon had cost her husband; she knew that he had builded it word upon word, sentence upon sentence, and she understood the intensity of his purpose, the sincerity of his belief; but the thought came to her forcibly at this time that the laws of God are not influenced by man's conception of life and truth, but that, perfect and harmonious, they go undeviatingly on, regardless of what man believes or teaches.
After the service Mrs. Thorpe noticed that there was no change in the rigidity of the manner that marked the worshipers. All was orderly and formal; those nearest to her spoke in subdued tones, and expressed a cold pleasure at seeing her again. This concourse of people, each heart carrying its own peculiar burden, had come to the service, listened to the music, heard the Scripture read and the sermon delivered; now each went again his own way without solace or comfort, his burden not one whit the lighter.
It was a dull, gray morning; lowering clouds hung threateningly about, and a fine, penetrating mist filled the air.