Hepsy started; she choked back her sobs; she wiped her streaming eyes.
"It should make me happy," she articulated, in broken tones. "But,—leave me alone a little while—I shall feel better soon."
"You are too much alone," said Chester. "You must come with me now."
"My eyes are so red!"
"The company is so much interested in Father Brighthopes' story, that nobody will see you. Come!—you must."
Chester was obliged to add gentle force to persuasion, to accomplish his kind design. Finally, she told him to go before, and she would come directly. He took his place in the circle around the old clergyman, and presently she glided to an obscure position, behind Mr. Royden's chair. There, unobserved, she indulged in her melancholy thoughts, until they were diverted by Father Brighthopes' remarks.
"Thus, my friends," said he, "you see that I have reason to bless the wisdom that rained upon my head the grievous sufferings of which I complained so bitterly at the time. Truly, whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth. Steel gets its temper from the furnace. What is gold good for, unless it has been fused and hammered? All our trials are teachers; then temptations form themselves into a sort of examining committee, to see how much we have learned by the discipline,—to see how strong we are. If all our worldly circumstances were pleasant and smooth, who would not be contented with them? But storms come; winds blow, and rains pour; then we turn our eyes inwardly. When earth is dark, we look up. When men prove false, we remember the Friend who never fails us. In the gloomy valley of the present, we joyfully turn our sight to the soft blue hills of an infinite future. Clouds now and then overcast the sky; but the sun shines forever. So there is an eternal sun of Love pouring floods of blessed light upon our souls continually, notwithstanding the misty sorrows that sometimes float between, and cast their momentary shades.
"Yes," continued the old man, warming and glowing with the theme, "I bless God for all I have suffered, as all of you will, some day,"—his clear, bright eye fell upon the miserable Hepsy,—"when you look back and see the uses of affliction. It seems to me that the happiest souls in heaven must be those who have suffered most here; patiently, I mean, and not with continual murmurings, which harden and embitter the heart. Even in this life, the poor and afflicted exteriorly may always, and do oftenest, I believe, enjoy interior happiness and peace, with which the superficial pleasures of life cannot be compared. The great secret it, Love!—love to God,—love to man,—and a serene and thankful temper.
"But I find that my story has relapsed into a sermon," said Father Brighthopes, smiling. "You were all so attentive, that I quite forgot myself. I hope I have not been dull."
"Oh, no! No, indeed!" cried half a dozen voices.