“No!  No—­no!”

“And then you must not forget that the young man whom she is to marry is also more or less involved.  And you must remember that he is essentially an upright, well-meaning, well-trained young fellow.  There is no reason to think she doesn’t love him.  His conceit is the only thing against him, and she may not mind that.  A gentle, yielding nature like hers is often attracted by a dominant, overbearing one like his.  I have often noticed it.  Maybe it is intended by nature and providence to keep the balance of things.  What would become of the world if all the strong ones or all the good ones were to come together, and leave all the weak ones or all the bad ones by themselves?  You can see at once that that would never do—­everything would be at once unbalanced.  It’s hard on the good and the strong; but then, many of nature’s provisions are hard on the individual, and yet they all work for the welfare of creation.”

He said this with a smile and a chuckle, hoping to win his friend to the half-earnest, half-jesting talk with which they sometimes tried to lighten the heavy burdens that both were constantly bearing.  But he saw that Paul could not respond, and he went back at once to the grave sympathy with which he had been speaking.

“At all events, this young couple have chosen one another for better or worse, and we, as honest men, and Christians, cannot allow ourselves to discuss, or even think of anything else.  I wish I could help you, my son, but I can only beg you to hold to your own road in life, to press straight on upward as steadily and as bravely as you can.  And you must put all thought of Philip Alston, too, out of your mind.  You and I must work for the saving of men’s bodies and souls—­we have nothing to do with their punishment.  Work, my son!  Work, work for others, that is the secret of happiness!  And if we work hard enough for the help and the healing of others, it may be that after a while we will be allowed to find help and healing for ourselves.”

And the young man looking sadly in the face of the old man promised that he would try—­that he would do his best.

XVI

LOVE’S TOUCHSTONE

Ruth, meantime, was still waiting and watching the forest path, and wondering why he did not come back.  He nearly always passed Cedar House more than once during the day, but he did not return now, although she waited and watched from early morning till the sun went down.  She was tired of hearing the old ladies wrangling over the hearth, and going outside the door she had played with the swan, and had grown tired of that.  Looking listlessly about for something else to do, she caught sight of David sitting alone under the willows on the river bank.  He thought himself safely hidden for the reading of his book, but the foliage was thinner now on the slender golden wands; some of them were quite bare, and hung like long silken fringes of shining yellow.  The first frost had touched them on the night before; the soft breeze was freighted with drifting leaves, and there was a fresh sparkle in the crystalline air.