"In His own time.
"'Never the heavenly fruits untimely fall:
And woe to him who plucks with impious haste!'
Remember the words of your favorite Iphigenia:—
"'As the king's hand is known by lavish largess,—
Little to him what is to thousands wealth,—
So in the sparing gift and long-delayed
We see the careful bounty of the gods.'"
"Those are the words of a Pagan priestess," Harry answered. "The hand of our God is not known by its parsimony. He does not force on us what we will not accept, but His bounty is limited only by our trust in it. Ask large enough!" he exclaimed, springing up, and standing before us,—
"'Ask large enough! and He, besought,
Will grant thy full demand!'"
"Who says that?" asked the Doctor.
"The greatest religious poet of the old time, translated by the greatest of the new,—David, by Milton."
It was I who answered,—for Harry, absorbed in his own thoughts, had not heard the question.