Ruthyn, of Bartram-Haugh. I look upon him, I do assure you, quite in the
light of a saint; not, of course, in the Popish sense, but in the very
highest, you will understand me, which _our_ Church allows,--a man built up
in faith--full of faith--faith and grace--altogether exemplary; and I
often ventured to regret, Miss Ruthyn, that Providence in its mysterious
dispensations should have placed him so far apart from his brother, your
respected father. His influence and opportunities would, no doubt, we may
venture to hope, at least have been blessed; and, perhaps, we--my valued
rector and I--might possibly have seen more of him at church, than, I
deeply regret, we _have_ done.' He shook his head a little, as he smiled
with a sad complacency on me through his blue steel spectacles, and then
sipped a little meditative sherry.
'And you saw a good deal of my uncle?'
'Well, a _good_ deal, Miss Ruthyn--I may say a _good_ deal--principally at
his own house. His health is wretched--miserable health--a sadly afflicted
man he has been, as, no doubt, you are aware. But afflictions, my dear Miss
Ruthyn, as you remember Doctor Clay so well remarked on Sunday last, though
birds of ill omen, yet spiritually resemble the ravens who supplied the
prophet; and when they visit the faithful, come charged with nourishment
for the soul.
Pages:
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199