Hedley!" said Rahal.

"Then I am going," said Aunt Barbara.

"No, no, Aunt!" cried Thora, and the next moment she was at her aunt's
side coaxing her to resume her chair. Then the Bishop and Ragnor
entered the room, and the moment the Bishop's face shone upon them,
all talk about leaving the room ceased. For Bishop Hedley carried his
Great Commission in his face and his life was a living sermon. His
soul loved all mankind; and he had with it an heroic mind and a
strong-sinewed body, which refused to recognise the fact that it died
daily. For the Bishop's business was with the souls of men, and he
lived and moved and did his daily work in a spiritual and eternal
element.

And if constant commerce with the physical world weakens and ages the
man who lives and works in it, surely the life passed amid spiritual
thoughts and desires is thereby fortified and strengthened to resist
the cares and worries which fret the physical body to decay. Then
vainly the flesh fades, the soul makes all things new. This is a great
truth--"it is only by the supernatural we are strong."

The Bishop came in bringing with him, not only the moral tonic of his
presence, but also the very breath of the sea; its refreshing "tang,"
and good salt flavour. His smile and blessing was a spiritual sunshine
that warmed and cheered and brightened the room. He was affectionate
to all, but to Mistress Brodie and Ian Macrae, he was even more kindly
than to the Ragnors. They were not of his flock but he longed to take
care of them.

"I heard singing as I came through the garden," he said, "and it was
not your voice, Conall."

"It was Ian Macrae singing," Conall answered, "and he will gladly sing
for thee, sir." This promise Macrae ratified at once, and that with
such power and sweetness that every one was amazed and the Bishop
requested him to sing, during the next day's service, a fine "Gloria"
he had just given them in the cathedral choir. And Ian said he would
see the organist, and if it could be done, he would be delighted to
obey his request.

"See the organist!" exclaimed Mistress Brodie. "What are you talking
about? The organist is Sandy Odd, the barber's son! How can the like
of him hinder the Bishop's wish?" Then the Bishop wrote a few words in
his pocket book, tore out the leaf, and gave it to Macrae, saying:
"Mr. Odd will manage all I wish, no doubt. Now, sir, for my great
pleasure, play us 'Home, Sweet Home.' I have not been here for four
m