Elise thanked her cordially, but must decline this offer; her daughters, she said, must learn betimes to moderate their desires to their means.
"Yes, yes," said Mrs. Gunilla, "but I must tell you, my dear friend, there is no rule without its exception, and if any trifles are wanted, so—think on me."
Mrs. Gunilla was to-day in such a happy humour; she looked like somebody who was determined to make some fellow-creature happy. The Assessor could not get into dispute with her. She rejoiced herself in the country, to which she should soon remove; in the spring which was at hand, and in the greenness which was approaching. The Assessor rejoiced himself not at all. "What had one to rejoice about in such a hateful spring? It was quite impossible to live in such a climate, and it must be the will of our Lord God that man should not live, or he would not have sent such springs. How could people plant potatoes in ice? and how otherwise could they be planted at all this year? And if people could get no potatoes, they must die of hunger, which was then perhaps the best part of the history of life."
On her side, Mrs. Gunilla bethought herself that she would willingly live. "Our Lord God," she said, "would take care that people had potatoes!" and then she looked with an expression of cordial sympathy on the troubled and distressed countenances of the young girls.
"When Eva, dear, is as old as I," said she, patting her gently on her white neck, "she will know nothing more of all that which so distresses her now."
"Ah! to be sixty years old!" exclaimed Eva, smiling, though with a tear in her eye.
"You'll get well on to sixty—well on; he, he, he, he!" said Mrs. Gunilla, consolingly. "Heart's-dearest! it goes before one thinks of it! But only be merry and cheerful. Amuse yourselves at——chose! what do you call it? and then come and tell me all about it. Do that nicely, and then I shall get my share of the fun though I am not there. That comes of the so-to-be envied sixty years, Eva, dear! he, he, he, he!"
The sun set bright and glorious. Mrs. Gunilla went to the window, and sent a little greeting towards the sun, whose beams, glancing through the trees of the opposite churchyard, seemed to salute her in return.
"It looks as if one should have a fine day to-morrow," said Mrs. Gunilla to herself, gently, and looking very happy.
People place youth and age opposite to each other, as the light and shade in the day of life. But has not every day, every age, its own youth—its own new attractive life, if one only sets about rightly to enjoy them? Yes, the aged man, who has collected together pure recollections for his evening companions, is many degrees happier than the youth who, with a restless heart, stands only at the beginning of his journey. No passions disturb the coffee-cup of the other—no restless endeavours disturb the cheerful gossip of the evening twilight; all the little comforts of life are then so thoroughly enjoyed; and we can then, with more confidence, cast all our cares and anxieties on God. We have then proved Him.