Lawrence looked up in some surprise. Mr. Robesart’s question suggested two entirely new ideas: that prayers might have some result attached to them, and that the presence of God was something which he could know and feel. Hitherto he had always looked upon praying as something which had to be done—a good work, and the saying of good words—but a work which had no possible connection with any source or consequence. As a child once said, Lawrence "had plenty of think in him," but he sadly wanted teaching how to put his thoughts to practical purpose. The thoughts now came so fast that the words were slow. Mr. Robesart was wise, and waited for them. How many priceless opportunities have been thrown away, through not waiting quite long enough at such moments! For one temptation to be silent when we ought to speak, are there not a score to speak when we ought to be silent? "Father! How can I know?" came at last. "If He never went with thee, thou canst not know," was the pithy answer. "That which one hath not, how can he lose or miss?" Lawrence was silent, playing with one of the bright buttons of his tunic in a style which indicated that his thoughts were not on the button. "There is one manner, my son," then continued the priest, "wherein God goeth with all men—in His providence as their Creator and Preserver. Were He not ever with thee after this fashion, thou wouldst not live a moment. But it is after another manner that he goeth with His beloved—as their Father and Friend. Is He that to thee?" "There be different sorts of fathers," said Lawrence, meditatively. "Aye. Alas for the human fathers that do misturn[#] the heavenly Father! It is only the good, true, and loving, my child, that be in their lesser way like God." [#] Pervert, misrepresent. "Like my sometime Lord was to him?" said Lawrence, with brightening eyes, and a nod towards the door of the inner chamber. Mr. Robesart smiled a little sadly. "Aye, Lawrence. Take thou for example the best and truest thou hast known, but remember that he must needs fall far behind." Lawrence went back to the button, uttering his thoughts in a low voice, as if he spoke to it rather than to the priest. "He alway loved to have my little Lord at his knee," he reflected in this manner. "And he used to lift him up, and kiss him. And if he were in any trouble, my Lord would stay and hear him, even were it to his own travail. And had he been hither this morrow, I reckon it should have gone nigh to break his heart to see him thus.—Father Robesart! Doth God Almighty care for any man like _that_?" "He cares like that for thee, Lawrence Madison." Mr. Robesart paused an instant, and Lawrence thought the sentence was finished. But it was not, for one word followed it. "If——" "If what?" said the boy quickly. "If thou wilt have it so." "If I will have it! Father Robesart, never nobody loved me! Never, in all my life!" "Then see thou reject not the love which passeth all loves."