“A good many years ago, at communion seasons, I used to grieve over him more than a little. I couldn’t bear to have him miss the privilege—deprive himself of the privilege of remembering the Lord in the way He appointed. He didn’t consider himself worthy, he told me once, when I said a word to him about it—at the time my father died that was.
“I tell you, Lizzie, it made me feel poor and mean enough—a hypocrite, almost, when I heard him say it. Not that any one can be worthy, in one sense. But out Lord said, ‘Except ye be converted and become as little children,’ and he had the heart of a little child about some things, more than any one I ever knew.
“Cousin, if I were to tell you—but I couldn’t begin to tell you, all he has done for us—for father and the boys when they were in trouble, and for me. And the way he did it, as though it was his business, that he needn’t be thanked for. The patience he showed, and the gentleness—yes, and the strength and firmness, when these were needed. I should have fallen down under my burden in those days, if it hadn’t been for Uncle Gershom. I have often wondered, Lizzie, if you knew just what a man your father was.”
Elizabeth turned her tearful face, smiling now, toward her cousin, but she said nothing.
“I never could tell you—never! My father, for a good while, wasn’t easy to get along with. Well, he wasn’t himself all the time, and if it hadn’t been for Uncle Gershom—
“But there—I mustn’t talk about it, not to-night,” she said, rising and walking about the room. “It kind of puts me off the balance to go back to those days, and I’d better let it alone to-night.”
“Some time you will tell me,” said Elizabeth.
“Well, I don’t promise. But if I could tell you just how like the face of an angel your father’s face has been to me many and many a time.”
“I think I know,” said Elizabeth.
“And I wish we were all as fit for heavenly places as he is. I don’t deny that I should have been glad for the sake of the cause, if he could have seen his way clear to unite with the Church before he went—to sit down at the Lord’s table here on earth, before he goes to sit down at it above, and I wish he might even yet.”