And here he stood. He seemed again
to be drawing in nourishment from all he saw, drinking it greedily.
The empty places in his mind were filled; the sight of the rich soft
landscape worked on his being, giving it something of its own abundant
fruitfulness, its own wide repose.
And--what next?
"What next?" he mimicked in his thoughts, and started again tramping up
and down the garden paths. What next--what next? Could he not afford
now to take his time--to rest a little? Every man must have an end in
view--must strive to reach this goal or that. And what was his object
now? What was it he had so toiled for, from those hard years in the
loft above the stable even until now? What was it? Often it seemed as if
everything were going smoothly, going of itself; as if one day, surely,
he would find his part in a great, happy world-harmony. But had he not
already found it? What more would he have? Of course he had found it.
But is this all, then? What is there behind and beyond? Hush! have done
with questioning. Look at the beauty around you. Here is peace, peace
and rest.
He hurried up to the house, and in--it might help matters if he could
take his wife in his arms; perhaps get her to come out with him a while.
Merle was in the pantry, with a big apron on, ranging jars of preserves
on the shelves.
"Here, dearest little wife," cried Peer, throwing his arms about her,
"what do you say to a little run?"
"Now? Do you suppose a housewife has nothing better to do than gad
about? Uf! my hair! you'll make it come down.
Pages:
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146