Wardour asked out of his own head.
Kate was a little afraid he would make his teaching turn on
submitting to rulers; it was an Epistle that would have given him a
good opportunity, for it was the Fourth Epiphany Sunday, brought in
at the end of the Sundays after Trinity. If he made his teaching
personal, something within her wondered if she could bear it, and was
ready to turn angry and defiant. But no such thing; what he talked
to them about was the gentle Presence that hushed the waves and winds
in outward nature, and calmed the wild spiritual torments of the
possessed; and how all fears and terrors, all foolish fancies and
passionate tempers, will be softened into peace when the thought of
Him rises in the heart.
Kate wondered if she should be able to think of that next time she
was going to work herself into an agony.
But at present all was like a precious dream, to be enjoyed as slowly
as the moments could be persuaded to pass. Out came the dear old
Dutch Bible History, with pictures of everything--pictures that they
had looked at every Sunday since they could walk, and could have
described with their eyes shut; and now Kate was to feast her eyes
once again upon them, and hear how many little Lily knew; and a
pretty sight it was, that tiny child, with her fat hands clasped
behind her so as not to be tempted to put a finger on the print,
going so happily and thoroughly through all the creatures that came
to Adam to be named, and showing the whole procession into the Ark,
and, her favourite of all, the Angels coming down to Jacob.
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