Sister Soulsby's large eyes beamed down upon him in reply, at first in open merriment, then more soberly, till their regard was almost pensive.
"Let us talk of something else," she said."All that is past and gone.It has nothing to do with you, anyway.
I've got some advice to give you about keeping up this grip you've got on your people."The young minister had risen to his feet while she spoke.
He put his hands in his pockets, and with rounded shoulders began slowly pacing the room.After a turn or two he came to the desk, and leaned against it.
"I doubt if it's worth while going into that," he said, in the solemn tone of one who feels that an irrevocable thing is being uttered.She waited to hear more, apparently.
"I think I shall go away--give up the ministry," he added.
Sister Soulsby's eyes revealed no such shock of consternation as he, unconsciously, had looked for.They remained quite calm;and when she spoke, they deepened, to fit her speech, with what he read to be a gaze of affectionate melancholy--one might say pity.She shook her head slowly.
"No--don't let any one else hear you say that," she replied.
"My poor young friend, it's no good to even think it.
The real wisdom is to school yourself to move along smoothly, and not fret, and get the best of what's going.I've known others who felt as you do--of course there are times when every young man of brains and high notions feels that way--but there's no help for it.Those who tried to get out only broke themselves.Those who stayed in, and made the best of it--well, one of them will be a bishop in another ten years."Theron had started walking again."But the moral degradation of it!" he snapped out at her over his shoulder.
"I'd rather earn the meanest living, at an honest trade, and be free from it.""That may all be," responded Sister Soulsby."But it isn't a question of what you'd rather do.It's what you can do.
How could you earn a living? What trade or business do you suppose you could take up now, and get a living out of?