as God
Himself. . . . Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the
evidence of things not seen. . . . In other words, it is the rock we
search for. . . . Draw near it, and you will know yourself in God's
very shadow--the shadow of a great rock in a weary land. . . . As
with this building, so with you, O man, cowering from wrath, as these
walls are cowering. . . ."

The benediction was pronounced, the pew-door opened, and the old man
marched down the aisle, looking neither to right nor to left, with
his jaw set like a closed gin. Honoria followed. She had not so
much as a glance for Taffy; but in passing she gazed frankly at
Humility, whom she had not seen before.

Humility was rather ostentatiously cheerful at dinner that day; a
sure sign that at heart she was disappointed. She had looked for a
bigger congregation. Mrs. Venning, who had been carried downstairs
for the meal, saw this and asked few questions. Both the women stole
glances at Mr. Raymond when they thought he was not observing them.
He at least pretended to observe nothing, but chatted away
cheerfully.

"Taffy," he said, after dinner, "I want you to run up to Tredinnis
with a note from me. Maybe I will follow later, but I must go to the
village first."

CHAPTER VI.

A COCK-FIGHT.

A footpath led Taffy past the church, and out at length upon a high
road, in face of two tall granite pillars with an iron gate between.
The gate was surmounted with a big iron lantern, and the lantern with
a crest--two snakes' heads intertwined. The gate was shut, but the
fence had been broken down on either side, and the gap, through which
Taffy passed, was scored with wheel-ruts. He followed these down an
ill-kept road bordered with furze-whins, tamarisks, and clumps of
bannel broom. By-and-by he came to a ragged plantation of stone
pines, backed by a hedge of rhododendrons, behind which the hounds
were baying in their kennels. It put him in mind of the "Pilgrim's
Progress." He heard the stable clock strike three, and caught a
glimpse, over the shrubberies, of its cupola and gilt weather-cock.
And then a turn of the road brought him under the gloomy northern
face of the house, with its broad carriage sweep and sunless portico.
Half the windows on this side had been blocked up and painted black,
with white streaks down and across to represent framework.

He pulled at an iron bell-chain which dangled by the great door.
The bell clanged far within