hen thou art rebuked of Him.'"

"Of a truth, I never could abide to see any so use a child," said
Isoult, innocently; "but, Thekla, sweet heart, it should as little serve
to run unto the further extremity, and give all that a babe should cry
for."

"Were that love at all?" said Thekla; "unless it were the mother's love
for herself, and her own ease."

Isoult saw that Mrs Rose seemed comforted, and Thekla was well able to
comfort, so she gently withdrew. But when she came down-stairs, John
having now returned, she asked him and Dr Thorpe to tell her their
opinions.

"My thought is," replied Dr Thorpe, "that the fellow knoweth not his
business. He must have cold blood in his veins, as a worm hath. I
might search the Decalogue a great while ere I came to his two
commandments--`Thou shalt not sorrow,' and `Thou shalt not love thy
neighbour any better than thyself.'"

"I have little patience with such doctrines, and scantly with such men,"
said John. "They would `make the heart of the righteous sad, whom God
hath not made sad.' They show our loving and merciful Father as an
harsh, stern ruler, `an austere man,' meting out to His servants no more
joy nor comfort than He can help. For joy that is put on is not joy.
If it arise not of itself, 'tis not worth having. Paul saith, `As
sorrowful, yet alway rejoicing;' but that joy showeth not alway in the
face: and Father Carter hath forgot the first half. I do believe (as I
have said to thee, dear heart, ere now) that God taketh more pleasure to
see His people joyful than sorrowful; but He never taketh pleasure, sure
am I, to see them make up an hypocrite's face, and fall to dancing, when
their hearts are like to break. Why, sweeting! thou lovest rather to
see Frank happy than woeful; but dost thou therefore desire her to
smother her tears, and force a smile, rather than come and lodge her
little troubles with thee? Nay, rather do I believe that to do such
were to insult God. I could tell thee of that I have seen, where I do
verily believe that pride, and naught else--that abominable sin that God
hateth--kept His afflicted child up, and smirking with a false smile
over the breaking heart; and no sooner was that self-righteous pride
subdued, and the child brake forth into open sobbing,--crying, `Father,
Thy rod doth hurt, and I have been a fool!'--no sooner, I say, was this
confession made, than God threw away His rod, and took His humbled child
to His heart. Dear