Mr. Fitzmorris laughed heartily.
"I enjoy a little healthy work for its own sake, Harry, when it does not take me away from necessary duties. I have seed to sow, and visits to make that you wot not of. A wise man has said, and I fully endorse the sentiment, that 'The Lord's kingdom is a kingdom of uses.' 'My Father works hitherto, and I work,' said the blessed Master. If duty calls you to work, work as he worked—not merely for your own advantage, but for the benefit of others. While labouring at any profitable employment, never forget the poor and destitute, whose wants may be alleviated by your diligence."
"I wish you would teach me, Mr. Fitzmorris," said Dorothy, "how to work less for myself and more for my fellow creatures. It must be a blessed thing, when it makes you so happy."
"I have my sorrows, too, Dorothy," he said, with a sigh. "But they are of a less personal nature than they were formerly. I grieve for those near and dear to me that cannot understand the peace and freedom that I have found; that will not believe that the religion of Jesus enlarges the heart, till it could encircle the world in its wide embrace. To those whose eyes have been miraculously opened to the light of truth, the condition of the wilfully blind is sad indeed."
The cheek lately flushed with exercise, was very pale now, and the wonderful eyes moist with tears, and he walked some paces quickly in advance of his companion, then turning back, he said in his usual kind, but rather abrupt manner:
"Dorothy, if you wish to take a lesson from me, and see how I work, come to-morrow afternoon at four o'clock, and I will show you a new method of employing your time." They were now opposite the curate's garden, and Dorothy turned up the lane and retraced her steps to the farm.
Exactly as the clock struck four, she rapped at Mr. Fitzmorris' study door. He was ready to receive her, his hat and gloves lay on the table beside him, and a small carpet-bag lying on the floor. He closed the book he was reading, and rose to meet her.
"I am glad to see you so punctual, Dorothy; it is a valuable quality. I hate to wait for any one, and still more, that any one should wait for me. You remember that awful parable of the five foolish virgins. I never read it without a secret fear, lest death should find me with no oil in my lamp. But we will talk as we go along, if you are not afraid of trusting yourself with me?"
"Mr. Fitzmorris, how can you imagine such a thing?" and Dorothy looked up in his face as if to reproach him for her supposed want of faith.
"I should not blame you a bit, Dorothy Chance, after the long lecture I read you about your imprudence in meeting Lord Wilton alone on the heath. You must think me a great hypocrite for taking you out alone with me. But Mrs. Martin has made me acquainted with your history, and I respect you for defending the character of the man who has, indeed, proved himself to you, a sincere friend, who from Henry Martin's account of him, I trust is slowly, though surely, striving to enter the straight gate that leads to heaven."