下载辰思小说免费APP
Itlookedasifithadbeenbuiltofdiscardedthings，scrapsandfragmentsofotherbuildings，puttogetherwithcareandpains，bysomeonewhohadtriedtomakethemostofcast-offmaterial。
Therewassomethingpitifulandshamefacedaboutthehut。
Itshrankanddroopedandfadedinitsbarrenfield，andseemedtoclingonlybysufferancetotheedgeofthesplendidcity。
"This，"saidtheKeeperoftheGate，standingstillandspeakingwithalow，distinctvoice——"thisisyourmansion，JohnWeightman。"
Analmostintolerableshockofgrievedwonderandindignationchokedthemanforamomentsothathecouldnotsayaword。
Thenheturnedhisfaceawayfromthepoorlittlehutandbegantoremonstrateeagerlywithhiscompanion。
"Surely，sir，"hestammered，"youmustbeinerroraboutthis。
Thereissomethingwrong——someotherJohnWeightman——aconfusionofnames——thebookmustbemistaken。"
"Thereisnomistake，"saidtheKeeperoftheGate，verycalmly；
"hereisyourname，therecordofyourtitleandyourpossessionsinthisplace。"
"Buthowcouldsuchahousebepreparedforme，"criedtheman，witharesentfultremorinhisvoice——"forme，aftermylongandfaithfulservice？Isthisasuitablemansionforonesowellknownanddevoted？Whyisitsopitifullysmallandmean？
Whyhaveyounotbuiltitlargeandfair，liketheothers？"
"Thatisallthematerialyousentus。"
"What！"
"Wehaveusedallthematerialthatyousentus，"repeatedtheKeeperoftheGate。
"NowIknowthatyouaremistaken，"criedtheman，withgrowingearnestness，"forallmylifelongIhavebeendoingthingsthatmusthavesuppliedyouwithmaterial。HaveyounotheardthatIhavebuiltaschool-house；thewingofahospital；two——yes，three——smallchurches，andthegreaterpartofalargeone，thespireofSt。Petro——"
TheKeeperoftheGateliftedhishand。
"Wait，"hesaid；"weknowallthesethings。Theywerenotilldone。
ButtheywereallmarkedandusedasfoundationforthenameandmansionofJohnWeightmanintheworld。Didyounotplanthemforthat？"
"Yes，"answeredtheman，confusedandtakenaback，"IconfessthatIthoughtoftenoftheminthatway。Perhapsmyheartwassetuponthattoomuch。Butthereareotherthings——myendowmentforthecollege——mysteadyandliberalcontributionstoalltheestablishedcharities——mysupportofeveryrespectable——"
"Wait，"saidtheKeeperoftheGateagain。"Werenotallthesecarefullyrecordedonearthwheretheywouldaddtoyourcredit？
Theywerenotfoolishlydone。Verily，youhavehadyourrewardforthem。
Wouldyoubepaidtwice？"
"No，"criedtheman，withdeepeningdismay，"Idarenotclaimthat。
IacknowledgethatIconsideredmyowninteresttoomuch。Butsurelynotaltogether。Youhavesaidthatthesethingswerenotfoolishlydone。
Theyaccomplishedsomegoodintheworld。Doesnotthatcountforsomething？"
"Yes，"answeredheKeeperoftheGate，"itcountsintheworld——whereyoucountedit。Butitdoesnotbelongtoyouhere。Wehavesavedandusedeverythingthatyousentus。Thisisthemansionpreparedforyou。"
Ashespoke，hislookgrewdeeperandmoresearching，likeaflameoffire。
JohnWeightmancouldnotendureit。Itseemedtostriphimnakedandwitherhim。Hesanktothegroundunderacrushingweightofshame，coveringhiseyeswithhishandsandcoweringfacedownwarduponthestones。Dimlythroughthetroubleofhismindhefelttheirhardnessandcoldness。
"Tellme，then，"hecried，brokenly，"sincemylifehasbeensolittleworth，howcameIhereatall？"
"ThroughthemercyoftheKing"——theanswerwaslikethesofttollingofabell。
"AndhowhaveIearnedit？"hemurmured。
"Itisneverearned；itisonlygiven，"cametheclear，lowreply。
"ButhowhaveIfailedsowretchedly，"heasked，"inallthepurposeofmylife？WhatcouldIhavedonebetter？Whatisitthatcountshere？"
"Onlythatwhichistrulygiven，"answeredthebell-likevoice。
Onlythatgoodwhichisdonefortheloveofdoingit。
Onlythoseplansinwhichthewelfareofothersisthemasterthought。
Onlythoselaborsinwhichthesacrificeisgreaterthanthereward。
Onlythosegiftsinwhichthegiverforgetshimself。"
Themanlaysilent。Agreatweakness，anunspeakabledespondencyandhumiliationwereuponhim。ButthefaceoftheKeeperoftheGatewasinfinitelytenderashebentoverhim。
"Thinkagain，JohnWeightman。Hastherebeennothinglikethatinyourlife？"
"Nothing，"hesighed。"Ifthereeverweresuchthings，itmusthavebeenlongago——theywereallcrowdedout——Ihaveforgottenthem。"
TherewasanineffablesmileonthefaceoftheKeeperoftheGate，andhishandmadethesignofthecrossoverthebowedheadashespokegently:
"ThesearethethingsthattheKingneverforgets；andbecausetherewereafewoftheminyourlife，youhavealittleplacehere。"
ThesenseofcoldnessandhardnessunderJohnWeightman\'shandsgrewsharperandmoredistinct。Thefeelingofbodilywearinessandlassitudeweigheduponhim，buttherewasacalm，almostalightness，inhisheartashelistenedtothefadingvibrationsofthesilverybell-tones。Thechimneyclockonthemantelhadjustendedthelaststrokeofsevenasheliftedhisheadfromthetable。
Thin，palestripsofthecitymorningwerefallingintotheroomthroughthenarrowpartingsoftheheavycurtains。
Whatwasitthathadhappenedtohim？Hadhebeenill？Hadhediedandcometolifeagain？Orhadheonlyslept，andhadhissoulgonevisitingindreams？Hesatforsometime，motionless，notlost，butfindinghimselfinthought。Thenhetookanarrowbookfromthetabledrawer，wroteacheck，andtoreitout。
Hewentslowlyupthestairs，knockedverysoftlyathisson\'sdoor，and，hearingnoanswer，enteredwithoutnoise。Haroldwasasleep，hisbarearmthrownabovehishead，andhiseagerfacerelaxedinpeace。
Hisfatherlookedathimamomentwithstrangelyshiningeyes，andthentiptoedquietlytothewriting-desk，foundapencilandasheetofpaper，andwroterapidly:
"Mydearboy，hereiswhatyouaskedmefor；dowhatyoulikewithit，andaskformoreifyouneedit。IfyouarestillthinkingofthatworkwithGrenfell，we\'lltalkitoverto-dayafterchurch。
Iwanttoknowyourheartbetter；andifIhavemademistakes——"
Aslightnoisemadehimturnhishead。Haroldwassittingupinbedwithwide-openeyes。
"Father！"hecried，"isthatyou？"
"Yes，myson，"answeredJohnWeightman；"I\'vecomeback——ImeanI\'vecomeup——no，Imeancomein——well，hereIam，andGodgiveusagoodChristmastogether。"
