“I wish I could make him happy!” said Clarice, as they turned into her rooms.
“Ask God to do it,” was Heliet’s response.
They both asked Him that night. And He heard and answered them, but, as is often the case, not at all as they expected.
Chapter Twelve.
In the City of Gold.
“I am not eager, strong,
Nor bold—all that is past;
I am ready not to do,
At last—at last.
“My half-day’s work is done,
And this is all my part:
I give a patient God
My patient heart.”
Vespers were over at Ashridge on the last day of September, the evening of the Earl’s arrival. He sat in the guest-chamber, with the Prior and his Buckinghamshire bailiff, to whom he was issuing instructions with respect to some cottages to be built for the villeins on one of his estates. The Prior sat by in silence, while the Earl impressed on the mind of his agent that the cottages were to be made reasonably comfortable for the habitation of immortal souls and not improbably suffering bodies. When at last the bailiff had departed, the Prior turned to his patron with a smile. “I would all lay lords—and spiritual ones too—were as kindly thoughtful of their inferiors as your Lordship.”
“Ah, how little one can do at the best!” said the Earl. “Life is full of miseries for these poor serfs; shall we, who would follow Christ’s steps, not strive to lighten it?”