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