He sprang up with guilty haste and went toward the house. A shriveling change of expression came over him.
The minister began, "A wise son heareth his father's instructions; but a scorner heareth not rebuke."
"I hear you, father."
"Why did you linger in the garden and forget your duty?"
"I—I cannot tell you, father."
"Do you mean you do not know why?"
"I cannot say I do not know."
"Then answer me."
Nathaniel broke out desperately, "I cannot, father—I know no words—I was—it is so warm—the sun shines—the birches are out—I was glad——"
The minister bowed his head sadly. "Aye, even as I thought. Sinful lust of the eye draggeth you down to destruction. You whose salvation even now hangs in the balance, for whose soul I wrestle every night in prayer that you may be brought to the conviction of sin, 'you were glad.' Remember the words, 'If I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy, may my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth.'"