“It is very truth,” said the Prior.
“Ay, and how short the boundary is!” pursued the Earl. “‘Man is ignorant what was before him; and what shall be after him, who can tell him?’ It may be, the next lord of these lands will be a hard man, who will oppress his serfs, or at any rate take no care for their comfort. Poor souls! let them be happy as long as they can.”
“When I last saw your Lordship, you seemed to think that short boundary too long for your wishes.”
“It is seven years since that,” answered the Earl. “It hardly seems so far away now. And lately, Father—I scarcely can tell how—I have imagined that my life will not be long. It makes me the more anxious to do all I can ere ‘the night cometh in which no man can work.’”
The Prior looked critically and anxiously at his patron. The seven years which he had passed in sorrowful loneliness had aged him more than seven years ought to have done. He was not fifty yet, but he was beginning to look like an old man. The burden and heat of the day were telling on him sadly.
“Right, my Lord,” replied the Prior; “yet let me beg of your Lordship not to over-weary yourself. Your life is a precious thing to all dependent on you, and not less to us, your poor bedesmen here.”
“Ah, Father! is my life precious to any one?” was the response, with a sad smile.
“Indeed it is,” answered the Prior earnestly. “As your Lordship has just said, he who shall come after you may be harsh and unkind, and your poor serfs may sorely feel the change. No man has a right to throw away life, my Lord, and you have much left to live for.”
Perhaps the Earl had grown a little morbid. Was it any wonder if he had? He shook his head.
“We have but one life,” continued the Prior, “and it is our duty to make the best of it—that is, to do God’s will with it. And when it is God’s will to say unto us, ‘Come up higher,’ we may be sorry that we have served Him no better, but not, I think, that we have given no more time to our own ease, nor even to our own sorrows.”