The Choir Invisible

There was another silence before he continued, musingly: "What an expression a sermon will sometimes bring out on a man's face!

While I was preaching, I saw many a thing that no man knew I saw. It was as

though I were crossing actual wilderness-es; I met the wild beasts of

different souls, I crept up on the lurking savages of the passions. I

believe some of those men would have liked to confess to me. I wish they

had."

He forbore to speak of John's black look, though it was of this that he was

most grievously thinking and would have led the way to have explained. But

no answer came."

There was one face with no hidden guilt in it, no shame. I read into the

depths of that clear mind. It said: 'I have conquered my wilderness.' I have

never known another such woman as Mrs. Falconer. She never speaks of

herself; but when I am with her, I feel that the struggles of my life have

been nothing."

"Yes," he continued, out of kindness trying to take no notice of his

companion's silence, "she holds in quietness her land of the spirit; but

there are battle-fields in her nature that fill me with awe by their

silence. I'd dread to be the person to cause her any further trouble in this

world."

The schoolmaster started up, went into the cabin, and quickly came out

again. The parson, absorbed in his reflections, had not noticed: "You've thought I've not sympathized with you in your affair with Amy. It's

true. But if you'd ever loved this woman and failed, I could have

sympathized."

"Why don't you raise the money to build a better church by getting up a

lottery?" asked John, breaking in harshly upon the parson's gentleness.

The question brought on a short discussion of this method of aiding schools

and churches, then much in vogue. The parson rather favoured the plan (and

it is known that afterwards a better church was built for him through this

device); but his companion bore but a listless part in the talk: he was

balancing the chances, the honour and the dishonour, in a lottery of life.

"You are not like yourself to-day," said the parson reproachfully after

silence had come on again.

I know it," replied John freely, as if awaking at last.

"Well, each of us has his troubles. Sometimes I have likened the human race

to a caravan of camels crossing a desert--each with sore on his hump and

each with his load so placed as to rub that sore. It is all right for the

back to bear its burden, but I don't think there should have been any sore!"