London's Heart: A NovelFarjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
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London's Heart: A Novel
Farjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
London (England) -- Fiction
The others sat by the window, and the old man and Felix, finding in
each other much that was congenial, talked unreservedly of many
matters. It seemed to be tacitly understood that the painful incidents
which had occurred on the day of the funeral should not be spoken of,
and no reference was therefore made to them. Lily took but little part
in the conversation; she sat and listened with a soul in harmony with
everything about her. It was very seldom that her grandfather had the
opportunity of enjoying a quiet hour with a nature which so nearly
resembled his own. Both he and Felix evidently loved to look at common
things from almost an ideal point of view, and the most ordinary
matters, as they conversed upon them, were occasionally invested with
bright bits of colour which matter-of-fact and prosaic minds would
have utterly failed to see. Only once was Lily's mother referred to;
the reference arose from a remark made by Felix concerning the
singular peculiarity in the room that nearly everything was on
castors. The old man explained that it originated from his daughter's
sickness.
"Every little noise fretted her," he said, "and as I had learnt
turning in my young days, I amused myself by making small wheels to
whatever I laid hands on, so that it could be moved about without
noise. It was not quite an idle whim, therefore; it has occupied my
time, which otherwise would have hung heavily, and I have really grown
to believe that it could be made to serve many useful purposes. The
man who first conceived the idea of a wheel was a great benefactor.
Civilization," he added, with a pleasant laugh, "would be at a
standstill without its wheel."
One thing leading to another, in the course of conversation they found
themselves conversing upon deeper than mundane matters. They had been
talking of the comparative value of creeds, and the old man said,
"Faith is everything. So long as a man believes--if his belief be
associated with anything that is pure and good in itself--it matters
little what it is. To me it is the worst kind of arrogance, the worst
kind of intolerance, for a man to say, 'Believe as I believe, or you
are lost.'"
"And those who don't believe?" suggested Felix.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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