Then the parting came, and John with tears and misgivings sent his darling into the unknown world of London.  It was a great trial to him; fears and doubts and sad forebodings gave him tragic hours.  It was a new kind of loneliness that he felt; nothing like it had ever come to him before.

“My food has lost all flavor,” he said to his mother, “and I cannot get any good sleep.  I am very unhappy.”

“Well, my dear,” she answered, “if you don’t turn your suffering into some sort of gain, you’ll be a great loser.  But if you turn it into patience or good hope or good temper you will make gain out of it.  You will buy it with a price.  You will pay yourself down for it.  It will be yours forever.  To be plain with you, John, you have been peevish all day long.  I wouldn’t if I were you.  Nothing makes life taste so bitter in your mouth as a peevish temper.”

“Why, mother!  What do you mean?”

“Just what I say, John, and it is not like you.  You have no real trouble.  Jane Harlow is having what any girl would call a happy time.  There is nothing wrong in it.  She does not forget you, and you must not make troubles out of nothing, or else real troubles are sure to come.  Surely you know who to go to in your trouble?”

“Yes!  Yes!  In anxiety and fear we learn how necessary it was that God should come to us as man.  ’It is our flesh that we seek and that we find in the Godhead.  It is a face like my face that receives me, a Man like to me that I love and am loved by forever.’  I have learned how necessary the revelation of Christ was in these lonely weeks.  I did not know I was cross.  I will mend that.”

“Do, my dear.  It isn’t like John Hatton to be cross.  No, it isn’t!”

Slowly the winter passed.  John went several times to London during it and was kindly and honorably entertained by Lord Harlow during his visits.  Then he saw his Jane in environments that made him a little anxious about the future.  Surrounded by luxury, a belle and favorite in society, a constant participator in all kinds of amusement and the recipient of much attention, how would she like to settle down to the exact monotony of life at Hatton?

It was well for John that he had none of the Hellenic spirit in him.  He was not tempted to sit down and contemplate his worries.  No, the Hebrew spirit was the nobler one, and he persistently chose it—­“get thee forth into their midst, and whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.”  John instinctively followed this advice, so that even his employees noticed his diligence and watchfulness about everything going on.