“There is one thing which is worth consideration,” continued Mr Elliott, “you may be disappointed, but I cannot be so, in the nature of things.”
“About getting a living?” said Mr Greenleaf, and a vague remembrance of Deacons Fish and Slowcome made him move uneasily in his chair.
“That is not what I was thinking of, but I suppose I may be sure of that, too. ‘Your bread shall be given you, and your water sure.’ And there is no such thing as disappointment in that for which I really am labouring, the glory of God, and the good of souls.”
“Well,” said Mr Greenleaf, gravely, “there must be something in it that I don’t see, or you will most assuredly be disappointed. It is by no means impossible that I may have my wish, men of humbler powers than mine—I may say it without vanity—have risen higher than to the Congress of our country. I don’t look upon mine as by any means a hopeless ambition. But the idea of your ever seeing all the crooked natures in Merleville made straight! Well, to say the least, I don’t see how you can be very sanguine about it.”
“Well, I don’t say that even that is beyond my ambition, or beyond the power of Him whom I serve to accomplish. But though I may never see this, or the half of this accomplished, it does not follow that I am to be disappointed, more than it follows that your happiness will be secured when you sit in the Congress of this great nation, or rule in the White House even, which is not beyond your ambition either, I suppose. You know how a promise may be ‘kept to the ear and broken to the heart,’ as somebody says.”
“I know it is the fashion to speak in that way. We learn, in our school books, all about the folly of ambition, and the unsatisfying nature of political greatness. But even if the attainment must disappoint, there is interest and excitement in the pursuit. And, if you will allow me to say so, it is not so in your case, and to me the disappointment seems even more certain.”
Mr Elliott smiled.
“I suppose the converse of the poet’s sad declaration may be true. The promise may be broken to the eye and ear, and yet fulfilled divinely to the heart. I am not afraid.”
“And, certainly,” thought the young man, “he looks calm and hopeful enough.”
“And,” added Mr Elliott, “as to the interest of the pursuit, if that is to be judged by the importance of the end to be attained, I think mine may well bear comparison to yours.”