and said, "O Griffith, I have heard the
voice of God."

Griffith looked alarmed, and rather shocked than elated.

Mrs. Gaunt observed that, and tacked on, "Speaking by the lips of his
servant." But she fired again the next moment, and said, "The grave hath
given us back St. Paul in the Church's need; and I have heard him this
day."

"Good heavens! where?"

"At St. Mary's Chapel."

Then Griffith looked very incredulous. Then she gushed out with, "What,
because it is a small chapel, you think a great saint cannot be in it.
Why, our Saviour was born in a stable, if you go to that."

"Well, but my dear, consider," said Griffith; "who ever heard of
comparing a living man to St. Paul, for preaching? Why, he was an
apostle, for one thing; and there are no apostles now-a-days. He made
Felix tremble on his throne, and almost persuaded Whatsename, another
heathen gentleman, to be a Christian."

"That is true," said the lady, thoughtfully; "but he sent one man that
_we_ know of to sleep. Catch Brother Leonard sending any man to sleep!
And then nobody will ever say of _him_ that he was long preaching."

"Why, I do say it," replied Griffith. "By the same token, I have been
waiting dinner for you this half-hour, along of his preaching."

"Ah, that's because you did not hear him," retorted Mrs. Gaunt; "if you
had, it would have seemed too short, and you would have forgotten all
about your dinner for once."

Griffith made no reply. He even looked vexed at her enthusiastic
admiration. She saw, and said no more. But after dinner she retired to
the grove, and thought of the sermon and the preacher: thought of them
all the more that she was discouraged from enlarging on them. And it
would have been kinder, and also wiser, of Griffith, if he had
encouraged her to let out her heart to him on this subject, although it
did not happen to interest him. A husband should not chill an
enthusiastic wife, and, above all, should never separate himself from
her favorite topic, when she loves him well enough to try and share it
with him.

Mrs. Gaunt, however, though her feelings were quick, was not cursed with
a sickly or irritable sensibility; nor, on the other hand, was she one
of those lovely little bores who cannot keep their tongues off their
favorite theme. She quietly let the subject drop for a whole week; but
the next Sunday morning she asked her husband if he would do her a
little favor.

"I'm more likely to say ay than nay," w