just as he had done at Plassy, she remembered. She ventured not a word.
Her heart was very full.

"Then look how we are bidden to increase our rejoicing and to delight
ourselves in the store laid up for us; we are not only safe and happy,
but fed with dainties. All things are ready; Christ says he will sup
with us; and we are bidden--'Eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink
abundantly, O beloved.' 'He that cometh to me shall never hunger, and
he that believeth on me shall never thirst.'

"And then, Eleanor, if we are the elect of God, holy and beloved, what
bowels of mercies should be in us; how precious all other beloved of
him should be to us; how we should be constrained by his love. Are you?
I am. I am willing to spend and be spent for these people among whom we
are. I am sure there are many, many children of God among them, come
and coming. I seek no better than to labour for them. It is the delight
of my soul! Eleanor, how is it with you?"

He had stood still before her during these last words, and now sat down
again, taking her hands and looking with his undeceivable gaze into her
face.

"I desire the same thing. I dare not say, I desire it as strongly as
you do,--but it is my very wish."

"Is it for the love of Christ--or for love of these poor creatures? or
for any other reason?"

"I can hardly separate the first two," said Eleanor, looking a little
wistfully. "The love of Christ is at the bottom of it all."

"There is no other motive," he said; "no other that will do the work;
nothing else that will work true love to them. But when I think of my
Master--I am willing to do or be anything, I think, in his service!"

He quitted her hands and began slowly walking up and down again.

"Mr. Rhys," said Eleanor, "what can I do?"

"Are you ready to encounter disagreeablenesses, and hardships, and
privations, in the work?"

"Yes; and discouragements."

"There are no such things. There ought to be no such things. I never
feel nor have felt discouraged. That is want of faith. Do you remember,
Eleanor, 'The clouds are the dust of his feet?' Think--our eyes are
blinded by the dust, we look at nothing else, and we do not see the
glory of the steps that are taken."

"That is true. O Mr. Rhys, that is glorious!"

"Then you are not afraid? I forewarn you, little annoyances are
sometimes harder to bear than great ones. It is one of the most trying
things that I have to meet," said Mr. Rhys standing still with a funny