I went downstairs the next morning before the doctor was ready, and when I met Thorwald I said, without thought: “A fine morning.”
“Yes,” he replied, “all our mornings are fine. I do not mean that the sun is always shining or that we do not have clouds and a variety of sky effects, but we know the clouds can be depended on not to give rain till night.”
“Do you not lose something by having a perpetual calm?” I asked. “For I understand the rain in the night comes only in gentle showers. In our rough world some of us enjoy the grandeur of the storm.”
“How about those who are exposed to its fury?” asked Thorwald in reply. “I do not see how anyone can really enjoy what is sure to be bringing sorrow or even inconvenience to others. Could a mother take pleasure in a tempest if she knew her son was in danger of shipwreck from it? Why should it change her feeling to know her son was by her side and that it was only strangers that were in danger?”
“But,” continued Thorwald, “are you and your friend ready for an excursion to-day? If you are, I propose to give you a new experience.”
“We shall be delighted to accompany you, and as I see breakfast is ready I will go up and tell the doctor to hurry.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” exclaimed Thorwald. “You must try to learn to live as we do, and you will remember I said the other day that we are never in haste. If, for example, it were Zenith who was late, I should never think of calling to her to hurry, for I should know she must have a good excuse for staying. Her liberty of action is as valuable to her as mine to me, and however long she might keep me waiting, I should feel sure that her action was the result of right motives and correct reasoning. If the doctor does not appear, we can easily postpone our excursion to to-morrow. There would be no lack of occupation for to-day.”
“What a delightful feeling it must be,” I said, “to be always free from hurry. It is the commonest experience in our imperfect state for one to start a few minutes late in the morning, and then be on a constant jump all day to make them up. One of the evils of our driving age is the wear and tear of our nerves in what we consider a necessary haste to get there.”
“Get where?” asked Thorwald.
“To get anywhere or to do anything that we set out to accomplish,” I answered.