ish, and as a physician of souls he
felt that it was necessary for him to understand what it was before he
could expect to effect a cure.

When the service was over, Douglas rose to go.

"Won't you stay and have a bite with us?" Joe asked.

"Please do stay," Mrs. Benton pleaded. "We are lonely to-day, and it
is so nice to have you with us."

Knowing that they were sincere in their request, Douglas remained, and
joined them in their humble repast. They sat and talked for a long
time when the meal was finished, and Douglas learned much about the
history of the Benton family, especially Jean. Being the youngest, and
the last to leave home, she was very dear to them. No further
reference was made to the letter they had received, nor of her
home-coming. They dwelt upon her life as a child, and the part she had
taken in the Sunday school, and other Church work in the parish. But
it was quite easy for Douglas to see that their hearts were almost
broken, and the pathetic look in their eyes told more than many words
of the thoughts the lips could not express.

CHAPTER IX

EVENING GLOW

It was the middle of the afternoon when Douglas bade the Bentons
good-by and walked slowly down the road. He had many things to
consider, and he wished to be off somewhere by himself. His visit to
the shoe-maker's had been like a benediction, and the wonderful faith
he had witnessed there, combined with the words of brave courage to
which he had listened, rebuked his doubts and fears. He had been
strongly tempted to give up and run away from what he knew to be his
duty. He had planned to live only for himself, and wander wherever his
spirit might lead. But now a longing came upon him to stay and help
those two old lonely people, and comfort them in their time of need.
It was the first link which was to bind him to this parish, the golden
link of divine sympathy. Little did he realise that afternoon what the
next link would be in his life's mystic chain.

It was a hot day and the river looked alluring and refreshing. He
thought of the big tree down by the shore, and of its cooling shade.
He decided to spend the rest of the afternoon there, alone with his
thoughts and his violin. There was something in his soul which he
could express only upon his beloved instrument. He had played very
little since coming to Rixton. Twice he had amazed the Jukes' children
with lively airs, and one evening he had played for their paren