The doctor left him undisturbed to think it over for a few seconds and then said kindly:
“It is quite impossible for our finite minds to comprehend a plan of which we form an infinitely small part; but the slight glimpse we can get of the universe, wonderful beyond comprehension, ought to make us accept our fate gladly—as we must, blindly.”
After the doctor left, Hernando remained standing, the picture of abject misery. Leaning his head against the window he said bitterly,—“And for this I have striven! I, a leper, condemned to cry ‘Unclean, unclean!’”
A black hand fell lightly on Hernando’s arm and Reuben’s low voice said: “God am a bery present frien’ in time ob need.”
“Oh, for your faith!” Hernando moaned. “Religion is a cold word and means nothing to me.”
“An’ what am ’ligion, Massa?”
“I don’t know.”
“Den let me tell yo’, Massa: ‘Puah ’ligion an’ undefiled befo’ God an’ de fatha am dis,—to visit de fathaless an’ wida’s in de—in de’s ’fliction an’ to keep hisse’f unspotted f’um de wo’l.’”
Tears, welcome tears, at last. “Oh, Granny, Granny!” Hernando sobbed. “Was that night prophetic? Did you foresee this, and can you help me now as you did then? Intercede with your God for me, for my punishment is greater than I can bear!” He threw himself on the bed and buried his face in the pillows.
Reuben waited until the force of his emotion had spent itself, and then, taking one of Hernando’s hands in both his own, he repeated the Lord’s Prayer.