I was strengthened in this frame of mind when we parted at the little
gate in front of the Ark, and Mr. Rollin proposed another drive for the
ensuing week.
Then I revealed to the fisherman the grave burden of my soul.
"Mr. Rollin," I said; "if I had come to Wallencamp merely in search of my
own pleasure and diversion, I should doubtless find it very easy to do
some things which I do not consider harmful in themselves, but which it
is wrong for me to do under the circumstances. I may tell you that I have
been very reckless, very thoughtless in my life, but I came here
resolving to devote myself to an earnest, serious work. I hoped to do
these people good. They do seem to believe in me. They trust me. I cannot
bear that they should think me in any way unworthy of their trust. When
you asked me to drive this evening,--it was just as it used to be--I did
not think. You were very kind. It was pleasant, and I thank you,--but I
ought not to have gone--don't you see? I believe, now, that it would have
been so much better if I had not."
"I don't see," said Mr. Rollin; "why should you leave _me_ out
altogether? Don't I believe in you? Don't I need to be done some good
to?"
At this last childishly whimsical appeal I was in sore danger of being
diverted from the serious channel of my thoughts.
Pages:
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143