his place to begin morning service, and wondering to
see the congregation so good on such a day, was suddenly startled, as
his eye travelled mechanically over to the Hall pew, usually tenanted by
Mrs. Darcy in solitary state, to see the characteristic figure of the
squire. His amazement was so great that he almost stumbled in the
exhortation, and his feeling was evidently shared by the congregation,
which throughout the service showed a restlessness, an excited tendency
to peer round corners and pillars, that was not favourable to devotion.

'Has he come to spy out the land?' the rector thought to himself, and
could not help a momentary tremor at the idea of preaching before so
formidable an auditor. Then he pulled himself together by a great
effort, and fixing his eyes on a shock-headed urchin half way down the
church, read the service to him. Catherine meanwhile in her seat on the
northern side of the nave, her soul lulled in Sunday peace, knew nothing
of Mr. Wendover's appearance.

Robert preached on the first sermon of Jesus, on the first appearance of
the young Master in the synagogue at Nazareth:--

'_This day is this scripture fulfilled in your ears!_'

The sermon dwelt on the Messianic aspect of Christ's mission, on the
mystery and poetry of that long national expectation, on the pathos of
Jewish disillusion, on the sureness and beauty of Christian insight as
faith gradually transferred trait after trait of the Messiah of prophecy
to the Christ of Nazareth. At first there was a certain amount of
hesitation, a slight wavering hither and thither--a difficult choice of
words--and then the soul freed itself from man, and the preacher forgot
all but his Master and his people.

At the door as he came out stood Mr. Wendover, and Catherine, slightly
flushed and much puzzled for conversation, beside him. The Hall carriage
was drawn close up to the door, and Mrs. Darcy, evidently much excited,
had her small head out of the window, and was showering a number of
flighty inquiries and suggestions on her brother, to which he paid no
more heed than to the patter of the rain.

When Robert appeared the squire addressed him ceremoniously--

'With your leave. Mr. Elsmere, I will walk with you to the rectory.'
Then, in another voice, 'Go home, Laetitia, and don't send anything or
anybody.'

He made a signal to the coachman, and the carriage started, Mrs. Darcy's
protesting head remaining out of window as long as anything co