More than so; simply as a little child who endures the school-hour for the prospect of his play-time, Roger Acton bears up with noble meekness against present suffering, knowing that his work and trials and troubles are only for a little while, but his rest and his reward remain a long hereafter.

He never questioned this; he knew right well Who had earned it for him; and he lived grateful and obedient, filling up the duties of his humble station.

This was his faith, and his works followed it.

He believed that God had placed him in his lot, to be a labourer, and till God's earth, and, when his work is done, to be sent on better service in some happier sphere: the where, or the how, did not puzzle him, any more than divers other enigmatical whys and wherefores of his present state; he only knew this, that it would all come right at last: and, barring sin (which he didn't comprehend), somehow all was right at present.

What if poverty pinched him?
he was a great heir still; what if oppression bruised him?
it would soon be over.