After the services at the grave the people assembled in the church again to partake of the love-feast. Leonhard still followed. No wonder if he walked as in a dream, and at times stood to ask himself where he was, and what all this might mean. A month ago, a week ago, he might have seen half his acquaintances hid away in darkness, and such feelings not have been stirred, such thoughts suggested, as were stirred and suggested here. So much human kindness he had never heard in human voices or seen in human faces. The fierce grasping at opportunity, the wild struggle for place, which his short experience had shown him was the world's way of living, made him wonder if it was possible that mortals could live so near heaven as these people lived. In that hour the sharp strain of life relaxed—his disappointments ceased to torment him—he almost forgot that he stood in the attitude of an absconding debtor. Around him flowed the isolating, soothing, life-renewing waters. He had passed rapids and cataract: could his humbled head receive the benediction of the hour? Could he drop his burdens here, and go forward on a new path and with a new ambition? What were all the honors of the world, its rewards, its pride, compared with the peace and satisfaction of this people? Home, work, friendship, holiness—could so much content him? All were to be had here. But why might he not find the same elsewhere—home, work, friendship, uprightness, honor, success—patience to do the work that offered and to wait for the ripening of the harvest which should rightfully be his? While the people sat at their love-feast, exchanging the grasp of friendship and the kiss of peace, these questions waited upon him. Then came thoughts that were like answers. He would write to Wilberforce: if Spener had spoken seriously he would undertake those buildings; and then he looked around, and his imagination transformed this room of the worshiping congregation into a temple all beautiful within; and somehow into tint and form the character of the Spenersbergers seemed so to enter that over the people as well as the house of worship he saw the wings of the Angel of the Covenant outspread.
CHAPTER XV.
LEONHARD'S THIRD NIGHT IN THE HAPPY VALLEY.
Loretz invited Mr. Wenck to go home with him after the services: there was something he wished to speak about, he said. Mr. Wenck needed no urging: he wanted to see Elise one moment alone. But he did not find that moment, for while Loretz was talking about the work which should be done without delay in the cemetery, and saying that there could be no better time to call attention to it than the present, when so many would be going to visit Sister Benigna's grave, Spener came in. He had heard already all that could be told him with regard to Benigna's death, but his surprise had brought him straight to Loretz, and what he said was creditable to him, although he had made certain statements to Leonhard yesterday concerning Sister Benigna which neither of them would be likely to forget. It was perhaps the recollection of them just now which made him look at Leonhard and say, "I have been speaking to Mr. Marten about a school-building, and he has promised to give me a design for one. Shall we not call it Sister Benigna's monument?"
"Sister Benigna's monument should be erected by the people," said the minister instantly. "She is in such regard among them all that it would be a most beautiful memorial."
"We will consider that," said Spener. He was not very well pleased by Wenck's remark, and perhaps there could be no better time than the present to express his thought in regard to such assistance as he would be likely to receive from Spenersberg in erecting a monument. "I dare say the parents would be pleased to contribute their mite, and the children also; but no doubt in the end it would be my lookout. And it would be my pleasure, certainly, to see that there was no debt on the building."
"Then, sir, pray do not call it her monument," said Mr. Wenck.
When Spener had spoken he felt a slight misgiving, as one who should look pitifully on the moth which he had crushed. The minister's words now amazed him, but he restrained his rising anger. Wenck must have something else to say: let him say it then.
"I judged the people by myself," Wenck said. "And that is saying a great deal more than I can express. It would be no pleasure, certainly, to see that her friends bore the least share in such expenses."
"But, dear Brother Wenck, we are all Sister Benigna's friends," said Spener with the expostulation of a master in his voice.