e me to the utmost; spend every faculty I have, O "Thou who
mouldest men"!'

But in the end his work itself drove him away. A certain memorable
Saturday evening brought it about. It had been his custom of late to
spend an occasional evening hour after his night-school work in the
North R---- Club, of which he was now by invitation a member. Here, in
one of the inner rooms, he would stand against the mantelpiece chatting,
smoking often with the men. Everything came up in turn to be discussed;
and Robert was at least as ready to learn from the practical workers
about him as to teach. But in general these informal talks and debates
became the supplement of the Sunday lectures. Here he met Andrews and
the Secularist crew face to face; here he grappled in Socratic fashion
with objections and difficulties, throwing into the task all his charm
and all his knowledge, a man at once of no pretensions and of unfailing
natural dignity. Nothing, so far, had served his cause and his influence
so well as these moments of free discursive intercourse. The mere
orator, the mere talker, indeed, would never have gained any permanent
hold; but the life behind gave weight to every acute or eloquent word,
and importance even to those mere sallies of a boyish enthusiasm which
were still common enough in him.

He had already visited the club once during the week preceding this
Saturday. On both occasions there was much talk of the growing
popularity and efficiency of the Elgood Street work, of the numbers
attending the lectures, the story-telling, the Sunday school, and of the
way in which the attractions of it had spread into other quarters of the
parish, exciting there, especially among the clergy of St. Wilfrid's, an
anxious and critical attention. The conversation on Saturday night,
however, took a turn of its own. Robert felt in it a new and curious
note of _responsibility_. The men present were evidently beginning to
regard the work as _their_ work also, and its success as their interest.
It was perfectly natural, for not only had most of them been his
supporters and hearers from the beginning, but some of them were now
actually teaching in the night-school or helping in the various branches
of the large and overflowing boys' club. He listened to them for a while
in his favourite attitude, leaning against the mantelpiece, throwing in
a word or two now and then as to how this or that part of the work might
be amended or expanded. Then sud