The younger man laid his hand on the knee of the elder with a gesture
almost appealing. "The future, until now, has looked very dark to me; it
begins to look brighter. Advise me; tell me how best to begin!"
"In one word," said Mr. Britton, with a smile. "Work! Just as soon as
you are able, find some work to do. Did we but know it, work is the
surest antidote for the poisonous discontent and ennui of this world,
the swiftest panacea for its pains and miseries; different forms to suit
different cases, but every form brings healing and blessing, even down
to the humblest manual labor."
"That is just what I have wanted," said Darrell, eagerly; "to go to work
as soon as possible; but what can I do? What am I fitted for? I have not
the slightest idea. I don't care to work at breaking stone, though I
suppose that would be better than nothing."
"That would be better than nothing," said Mr. Britton, smiling again,
"but that would not be suited to your case. What you need is mental
work, something to keep your mind constantly occupied, and rest assured
you will find it when you are ready for it. Our Father provides what we
need just when we need it. 'Day by day' we have the 'daily bread' for
mental and spiritual life, as for temporal. But what you most want to do
is to keep your mind pleasantly occupied, and above all things don't
try to recall the past. In God's own good time it will return of
itself."
"And when it does, what revelations will it bring?" Darrell queried
musingly.
"Nothing that you will be afraid or ashamed to meet; of that I am sure,"
said Mr. Britton, confidently, adding a moment later, in a lighter tone,
"It is nearing sunset, my boy, and time that I was taking you back to
the house."
"You have given me new courage, new hope," said Darrell, rising. "I feel
now as though there were something to live for--as though I might make
something out of life, after all."
"I realize," said Mr. Britton, tenderly, as together they began the
descent of the mountain path, "as deeply as you do that your life is
sadly disjointed; but strive so to live that when the broken fragments
are at last united they will form one harmonious and symmetrical whole.
It is a difficult task, I know, but the result will be well worth the
effort. In your case, my son, even more than in ordinary lives, the
words of the poet are peculiarly applicable: "'A sacred burden is this life ye bear:
Look on it, lift it, bear it solemnly;
Stand up and walk beneath it steadfastly;
Fail not for sorrow, falter not for sin,
But onward, upward, till the goal ye win.'"