She only saw the pure, clear, delicately-toned hues of the east window,

and the reverent richness of the chancel, and she heard the blind

pastor's deep musical voice, full of that expressive power always

enhanced by the absence of a book. He led the Psalms with perfect

security and a calm fervour that rendered the whole familiar service

like something new and touching; the Lessons were read by Alick,

and Rachel, though under any other circumstances she would have been

startled to see him standing behind the Eagle, could not but feel all

appropriate, and went along with each word as he read it in a tone well

worthy of his uncle's scholar. Whether few or many were present, Rachel

knew not, thought not; she was only sensible of the fulness of calm

joy that made the Thanksgiving touch her heart and fill her eyes with

unbidden tears, that came far more readily than of old.

"Yet this can't be all," she said to herself, as she wandered among the

tall white lilies in the twilight; "is it a trance, or am I myself?

I have not unthought or unfelt, yet I seem falling into a very sweet

hypocrisy! Alick says thought will come back with strength. I don't

think I wish it!"

The curate did not return till after she had gone to bed, and in the

morning he proved to be indeed a very dry and serious middle-aged man,

extremely silent, and so grave that there was no knowing how much to

allow for shyness. He looked much worn and had a wearied voice, and

Mr. Clare and Alick were contriving all they could to give him the rest

which he refused, Mr. Clare insisting on taking all the service that

could be performed without eyes, and Alick volunteering school-work.

This Rachel was not yet able to undertake, nor would Alick even let her

go to church in the morning; but the shady garden, and the echoes of the

Amens, and sweet, clear tones of singing, seemed to lull her on in this

same gentle, unthinking state of dreamy rest; and thence, too, in the

after part of the day, she could watch the rector, with his Sunday

class, on his favourite seat under the yew-tree, close to the cross that

marked the resting-place of his wife and child.

She went to church in the evening, sheltered from curious eyes in her

nook, and there for a moment she heard the peculiar brush and sweep of

rich silk upon pavement, and wondered at so sophisticated a sound in the

little homely congregation, but forgot it again in the exulting, joyous

beauty of the chants and hymns, led by the rector himself, and, oh, how

different from poor Mr. Touchett's best efforts! and forgot it still

more in the unfettered eloquence of the preaching of a man of great

natural power, and entirely accustomed to trust to his own inward

stores. Like Ermine Williams, she could have said that this preaching

was the first that won her attention. It certainly was the first that

swept away all her spirit of criticising, and left her touched and

impressed, not judging. On what north country folk call the loosing of

the kirk, she, moving outwards after the throng, found herself close

behind a gauzy white cloak over a lilac silk, that filled the whole

breadth of the central aisle, and by the dark curl descending beneath

the tiny white bonnet, as well as by the turn of the graceful head, she

knew her sister-in-law, Lady Keith, of Gowanbrae. In the porch she was

met with outstretched hands and eager greetings-"At last! Where did you hide yourself? I had begun to imagine dire

mischances."




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