'Do with it?' the girl repeated, her brown eyes on the Doctor's face as if looking for his meaning. 'I think, I should like to enjoy it, if I could. And it has been very commonplace, lately, sir. Mr. Falkirk don't pet me and play with me as he used to—and he won't let me play with him; not much.'
The smile which quivered on Dr. Maryland's face changed and passed into a sort of sweet gravity.
'There is one capital way to get out of commonplace,' he said; 'but it isn't play, my dear. If you set about doing what God would have you to do with yourself, there will be no dullness in your life, and no lack of enjoyment, either.'
She looked at him again—then down; but made no answer.
'Somebody has written an essay, that I read lately,' Dr. Maryland went on—'an essay on the monotony of piety. Poor man! he did not know what he was talking about. The glorious liberty of the children of God!—that was something beyond his experience;—and the joy of their service. It is what redeems everything else from monotony. It glorifies what is insignificant, and dignifies what is mean, and lifts what is low, and turns the poor little business steps of every day into rounds of Heaven's golden ladder. I verily think I could have hanged myself long ago, for the very monotony of all things else, if it had not been for the life and glory of religion!'
'Why papa!' said Primrose.
'I would, my dear, I do think.' He was silent a moment; then subsiding from the excited fire with which he had spoken, he turned to Wych Hazel and went on gently,—
'What else do you want to do, my dear, that is not to be done in that track? you want adventures?'
'Yes, sir,' she answered, without looking up, half hesitating, a little grave. 'I think I do. And more people about,—people to love me, and that I can love. Of course I love Mr. Falkirk,' she added, correcting herself, 'very much; but that is different. And there's nobody else but the servants.'
'O do come here!' cried Primrose; 'and love us.'