re did you go in the evenings to preach?" said Julia.

"That was not so far off."

"Did you serve _two_ chapels on the same day, Mr. Rhys?" Eleanor asked.

"No. The evenings Julia speaks of I preached nearer home."

"And school all the week!" said Eleanor.

"It was no hardship," he said with a most pleasant smile at her. "The
King's work required haste--there were many people at both places who
had not heard the truth or had not learned to love it. There are still."

His face grew very grave as he spoke; grave even to sadness as he
added, "They are dying without the knowledge of the true life!"

"Where was the other chapel you went to?"

"Rythmoor."

Eleanor hurried on. "But Mr. Rhys, will you allow me to ask you a
question that puzzles me?"

"I beg you will do so!"

"It is just this. If there are so many in England that want
teaching--But I beg your pardon! I am afraid talking tires you."

"I assure you it is very pleasant to me. Will you go on."

"If there are so many in England that want teaching, why should you go
to such a place as that Julia talks of?"

"They are further yet from help."

"But is not the work here as good as the work there?"

"I am cut off from both," he said. "I long to go to them. But the Lord
has his own plans. 'Why art thou cast down, O my soul; and why art thou
disquieted within me? Hope thou in God!'--"

The grave, sweet, tender, strong intonation of these words, slowly
uttered, moved Eleanor much. Not towards tears; the effect was rather a
great shaking of heart. She saw a glimpse of a life she had never
dreamed of; a power touched her that had never touched her before. This
life was something quite unearthly in its spirit and aims; the power
was the power of holiness.

It is difficult or impossible to say in words how this influence made
itself felt. In the writing of the lines of the face, in the motion of
the lips, in the indefinable tones of voice, in the air and manner,
there comes out constantly in all characters an atmosphere of the
truth, which the words spoken, whether intended or not intended, do not
convey. Even unintentional feigning fails here, and even self-deception
is belied. The truth of a character will make itself felt and
influential, for good or evil, through all disguises. So it was, that
though the words of Mr. Rhys might have been said by anybody, the
impression they produced belonged to him alone, of all the people
Eleanor had ever seen in her l