I
have borne it all myself a hundred times, and I shall bear it again if
the Father wills it. But when you leave me here, do not think of me as
of one who works, grim and indifferent, wrecking lives and destroying
homes. It is but the burning of the weeds of life; and it is as needful
as the sunshine and the rain. Pain does not wander aimlessly, smiting
down by mischance and by accident; it comes as the close and dear
intention of the Father's heart, and is to a man as a trumpet-call from
the land of life, not as a knell from the land of death. And now, dear
children, you must leave me, for I have much to do. And I will give
you," he added, turning to me, "a gift which shall be your comfort, and
a token that you have been here, and seen the worst and the best that
there is to see."
He drew from under his cloak a ring, a circlet of gold holding a red
stone with a flaming heart, and put it on my finger. There pierced
through me a pang intenser than any I had ever experienced, in which all
the love and sorrow I had ever known seemed to be suddenly mingled, and
which left behind it a perfect and intense sense of joy.
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