The Bishop watched him with infinite pity, but
for several days offered him no consolation. He thought it well he
should sorrow; he wished him to know fully that humiliation which Jesus
exalts, that wretchedness which he consoles, that darkness which he
lightens.
So, when he heard him one night, muttering as he walked gloomily up
and down, "O that I could forget! O that I could forget!" he answered,
"Not so, son Richard. Can you escape eternity by forgetting it? And
even for this life to forget is a kind of moral forfeiture, a treason
against your own soul. Forget nothing, carry every thing about yourself
to God--your weakness, your regrets, and your desires."
"How can the infinite God heed my pitiful regrets and desires?"
"Because he loves men individually; he deals with them soul by soul.
You, Richard Fontaine, you, your very self, must go to him. You are
not only a sinner in the general mass, but a particular sinner under
your own name and in your special person. So, then, for you he has
a special pardon. He has the special help you need; the very word of
grace, that your soul, and yours only, may be able to understand."
"O that God would pity me!"
"You belong to the God of compassions. He resists the proud, but he
comes to abide with the broken in spirit."
"If I was only sure Phyllis would recover!"
"And if not?"
"Then I have no hope for this life or the other.
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