“Kate is the better comforter, Dr Thorpe, and hath learned the sweeter lesson,” he said. “At least she hath learned it me. You would have me count the chastening joyous, even at this present: God’s word pointeth to the joyousness to come. ‘Blessed are they that mourn,—for they shall be comforted.’”
And he went after Kate.
For a few days more after Robin’s coming all was quiet. No one came to inquire for him, and they began to hope the worst was over. But late on the Sunday evening, which was the seventh of July, suddenly there came a rapping on the door. And there, to the surprise of all, stood Dr Thorpe.
“Welcome, good friend!” said Avery; “but your occasion should be great to have you forth this even.”
“So it is,” said he. “Is it not bed-time, Mrs Avery?”
“In very deed, Doctor,” she answered. “We were going above but now.”
“Leave the lad and the maids go, then,” said he, “and you and Jack bide a space.”
So the maids and Robin departed.
“What is it, Doctor?” asked Avery, when they were gone.
“What it is, Jack,” said Dr Thorpe, who sat in the corner with his hands upon his knees, “is a great burning mountain that is at this moment quiet. What it may be, is a great rushing and overflowing of the fiery matter, that shall deal death all around. And what it will be—the Lord God knoweth, and He only.”