“Pastor!—Oh! I see now what you mean. Well—ay, of course—”
“Depend upon it, Berthold, the Lord shall see that thou hast grace sufficient for the evil day, if thy trust be laid on Him. He shall not give thee half enough for thy need out of His royal treasure, and leave thee to make up the other half out of thy poor empty coffer. ‘My God shall supply all your need, according to His riches in glory’—‘that ye, always having all-sufficiency in all things, may abound to every good work.’ Is that too small an alner (Note 1) to hold the wealth thou wouldst have? How many things needest thou beyond ‘all things’?”
“True enough,” said Berthold. “But I was not thinking so much of myself, Pastor—I’ve had my life: I’m two-and-fourscore this day; and if I am called on to lay it down for the Lord, it will only be a few months at the furthest that I have to give Him. It wouldn’t take so much to kill me, neither. An old man dies maybe easier than one in the full vigour of life. But you, my dear Pastor!—and the young fellows among us—Guelph, and Conrad, and Dietbold, and Wilhelm—it’ll be harder work for the young saplings to stand the blast, than for the old oak whose boughs have bent before a thousand storms. There would most likely be a long term of suffering before you, when my rest was won.”
“Then our rest would be the sweeter,” replied Gerhardt softly. “‘He knoweth the way that we take; when He hath tried us, we shall come forth as gold.’ He is faithful, who will not suffer us to be tried above that we are able to bear. And He can make us able to bear any thing.”
Gerhardt was just turning into Kepeharme Lane, when a voice at his elbow made him pause and look back.
“Did you want me, friend?”
“No,” answered a hoarse voice, in a significant tone. “You want me.”
Gerhardt smiled. “I thank you, then, for coming to my help. I almost think I know your voice. Are you not Rubi, the brother of Countess, who made such a pet of my little child?”
An affirmative grunt was the response.
“Well, friend?”