Cameron's furious glance at them appeared only to increase their
amusement. It did not lessen Cameron's embarrassment and rage that now
and then during the reading of the hymn Mandy's eyes were turned upon
him as if with new understanding. Enraged with himself, and more with
the group of hoodlums behind him, Cameron stood for the closing hymn
with his arms folded across his breast. At the second verse a hand
touched his arm. It was Mandy offering him her book. Once more a snicker
from the group of delighted observers behind him stirred his indignation
on behalf of this awkward and untutored girl. He forced himself to
listen to the words of the third verse, which rose clear and sonorous in
the preacher's voice:

"Here I raise my Ebenezer,
Hither by Thy help I'm come;
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home."

The serene assurance of the old Methodist hymn rose triumphant in the
singing, an assurance born of an experience of past conflict ending
in triumph. That note of high and serene confidence conjured up with
a flash of memory his mother's face. That was her characteristic, a
serene, undismayed courage. In the darkest hours that steady flame of
courage never died down.

But once more he was recalled to the service of the hour by a voice,
rich, full, low, yet of wonderful power, singing the old words. It took
him a moment or two to discover that it was Mandy singing beside him.
Her face was turned from him and upwards towards the trees above her,
through the network of whose leaves the stars were beginning to shine.
Amazed, enthralled, he listened to the flowing melody of her voice.
It was like the song of a brook running deep in the forest shade,
full-toned yet soft, quiet yet thrilling. She seemed to have forgotten
her surroundings. Her soul was holding converse with the Eternal. He
lost sight of the coarse and fleshly habiliments in the glimpse he
caught of the soul that lived within, pure, it seemed to him, tender,
and good. His heart went out to the girl in a new pity. Before the hymn
was done she turned her face towards him, and, whether it was the magic
of her voice, or the glorious splendour of her eyes, or the mystic touch
of the fast darkening night, her face seemed to have lost much of its
coarseness and all of its stupidity.

As the congregation dispersed, Cameron, in silence, and with the spell
of her voice still upon him, walked quietl