to the
girl's beauty, there was a slight shock of surprise.

The little round hat was gracefully wound with frost flowers until it
looked like a wreath upon the pale gold of the glorious hair. The face
was white and luminous, and the eyes looked as if they were expecting a
vision to appear.

The white dress, home-made and cheap, had the unfailing touch that
innate taste always gives, and it fell in soft lines about the slim,
girlish figure. The little work-worn hands were folded loosely. They
were resting a moment before taking up the labour of the new, untried
life.

Drew glanced down as the two came in, and when he saw Joyce he started,
and leaned forward.

He tried to take his eyes from that pale, exquisite face, but could not.
It moved him powerfully not only by its beauty, but by its expression of
entranced expectation.

Could the crude fellow at her side inspire such emotion? It was puzzling
and baffling, but it roused Drew's sympathy, and held him captive. The
rough faces of the men, the pitiable, worn faces of the women, the
sprinkling of freckled, childish faces were blotted out for him. Like a
star in blank space shone that one sweet, waiting face with its wreath
of fairy-like flowers.

* * * * *

She was waiting for something she expected him to give. Drew became
obsessed with this thought. Not the consecration of marriage--No! but
something she--the soul of her--wanted.

Out among the pines in the early morning Drew had made a few notes,
these he clutched in his feverish right hand. When the hour fixed upon
arrived, he arose and stood beside the rickety pulpit stand. He made a
short prayer; he knew it was feeble and rambling.

"Scared to death," thought Gaston, and he heard Filmer breathe heavily.
Then Drew lifted his notes to the desk; tried to fix his eyes and
attention upon them, failed and gazed helplessly at that one face in the
appalling vacancy. Presently the bits of paper fell from his nerveless
hand and fluttered to the floor.

Back in his college days he had had his dream of the vital word he would
say to his people--_his_ people--on that first day when he was to come
to his own. Strangely enough he felt that his time had arrived. Called
only by God, to a people who would never think of desiring him, he must
say his word though only that pale, wonderful face thrilled to his
meaning. If only he could make _her_ understand, he would take it as a
sign from