“Too hard for what?” answered Robin. “There have been that have had lessons set that they might not learn and live. Is that not too hard?”
“Nay, child!” Dr Thorpe answered. “If it be not too hard to learn, and keep hold on eternal life, the lesser life of this little world is of no matter.”
“Nor the happiness of it, I suppose?” said Robin, gloomily.
“The plant God careth to grow now in us is holiness,” he answered. “That other fair flower, happiness, He keepeth for us in His own garden above, where it is safer than in our keeping. ’Tis but stray fragments and single leaves thereof that find their way down hither.”
“I think so,” said Robin, bitterly.
“Lad, lad! kick not against the pricks!” exclaimed Dr Thorpe, more sternly. “God’s will is the best for us. His way is the safe way, and the only way.”
“Easy to say so,” answered Robin, slowly. “And it was easy to think so—yesterday morning.”
Dr Thorpe looked on him and did not reply.
“O Robin!” cried Kate, running to him from the door. “The sun is shining again. It was raining so fast all the morn; and now the sun is come, and all the little drops are so pretty in the sunshine. Come and see! They are so pretty shining on the roses.”
Robin rose to follow her, with the first smile (though a mournful one) that Isoult had seen flit across his face.