For weans and wife,
That’s the true pathos and sublime
Of human life.’”
“What you say sounds fine but dull. I don’t care about such wearisome domesticity.”
“What you call wearisome domesticity,” said the Rector in a voice of emotion, “is the happiest state in which a man can find himself. Home, wife, children, domestic love, domestic consolations—what more can the heart of man desire? Laurel crowns cure no aching head, but the gentle kiss of a loved wife in time of trouble is indeed balm in Gilead.”
Maurice looked at the old man in amazement, for never had he seen him so moved.
“You speak feelingly, Rector,” he said at length, with a certain hesitation.
“I speak as I feel,” replied Carriston with a sigh. “I also have my story, old and unromantic-looking as I am. Come over to the Rectory to-morrow, my dear lad, and I will tell you something which will make you see how foolish it is to be miserable in God’s beautiful world.”
“I am afraid it will give you pain.”
“No; it will not give me pain. What was my greatest sorrow is now my greatest consolation. You will come and see me to-morrow?”