'True, dear, only remember the brave old verse--
"Stumbleth he who runneth fast? Dieth he who standeth still? Not by haste or rest can ever Man his destiny fulfil."
"Never hasting, never resting," a fine life-motto, Cardie; but our time is nearly at an end, we must be going now.'
As they walked along, Richard returned of his own accord to the subject they had been discussing, and owned his indecision was a matter of great grief to him.
'Conscientious doubts will find their answer some day,' replied Mildred; 'but I wish you had not refused to confide them to your father.'
'It was wrong of me; I know it, Aunt Milly; but it would have been so painful to him, and so humiliating to myself.'
'Hardly so painful as to be treated like a stranger by his own son. You have no idea how sorely your reserve has fretted him.'
'It was cowardly of me; but indeed, Aunt Milly, the whole question was involved in difficulty. My father is sometimes a little vague in his manner of treating things; he is more scholarly than practical, and I own I dreaded complication and disappointment.'
Mildred sighed. Perhaps after all he was right. Her brother was certainly a little dreamy and wanting in concentration and energy just now; but little did Richard know the depth of his father's affection. Just as the old war-horse will neigh at the sound of the battle, and be ready to rush into the midst of the glittering phalanx, so would Arnold Lambert have warred with the grisly phantoms of doubt and misbelief that were leagued against Richard's boyish faith, ready to lay down his life if need be for his boy; but as he sat hour after hour in his lonely study, the sadness closed more heavily round him--sadness for his lost love in heaven, his lost confidence on earth.
Dr. Heriot gave Mildred and Richard a searching glance as they re-entered the room. Both looked worn and pale, but a softened and subdued expression was on Richard's face as he stood by the bedside, looking down on his sister.
'None at present; but there may be a partial rally. Where is Mr. Lambert, I want to speak to him;' and, as though to check further questioning, Dr. Heriot reiterated a few instructions, and left the room.
The hours passed on. Richard, in spite of his aunt's whispered remonstrances, still kept watch beside her; and Mr. Lambert, who as usual had been praying by the side of his sick child, and had breathed over her unconsciousness his solemn benediction, had just left the room, when Mildred, who was giving her nourishment, noticed a slight change in Olive, a sudden gleam of consciousness in her eyes, perhaps called forth by her father's prayer, and she signed to Richard to bring him back.