"You will not agree to it, though, and I do not know that you
will even understand me. Mr. Marshall, I think that nothing is
insignificant which is done for God; and that everything which
is not done for Him, directly or indirectly, is insignificant
or worse."
"I do not understand -" he said thoughtfully. "In what sense
can a thing be 'done for God?' Unless it is building a church
or founding a hospital."
"Very few churches have been built for God," I said. "At
least I think so."
"Why, the old monks -" Mr. Marshall began. But just then our
missing companions came up, and he stopped. They had been
lured aside from the way by the sight of some game. We had no
more private talk; but Hugh Marshall was sober and thoughtful
all the rest of the day.
He sought such talks with me now whenever he could; and seemed
to enter into them like a man, with an earnest purpose to know
the truth and to do his work in the world if he could find it.
I grew, in a way, very fond of him. He was gentle, well-bred,
happy-tempered, extremely careful of my welfare and pleasure,
and regardful of my opinions, which I suppose flattered my
vanity; well-read and sensible; and it seemed to me that he
grew more agreeable every day.
The accounts from the seat of war in America were not very
stirring just then; nothing great was done or expected; and
the question of our young men's return to take part in what
was going on, was suffered for a time to fall out of sight.
Meanwhile we left Lucerne and went to Geneva. There was more
society, in a quiet way; and there was a fresh harvest of
pleasure to be reaped by me and for me in the domains of
nature.