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A child's hand may lead a multitude; a giant's strength can drive but few. Christ's tears had fallen on the ice in Lottie's heart, and melted it away. It was now tender, receptive, ready for the seeds of truth. Hemstead's sermon had only hardened it.
"Yes," cried Lottie, in a sudden ecstasy of delight; "there goes my brave, true knight to the rescue, and he will save them, too; see how he gains upon them. That is Mr. Hemstead's voice. I know it well. He is shouting encouragement to them. Hear the feeble answering cry." "That's a woman's voice," Harcourt cried, after listening a moment as if his life depended on what he heard.
He could not complain, however, for she had never been kinder to him; and if her eyes did seek Hemstead's face rather often, she could see nothing there which for a moment could compare with his own handsome features. He also concluded that it was a "mood"; but liked the new and gentle Lottie quite as well as the piquant, and often rather brusque girl of other days.
She heard, but still did not heed the pastor's grateful reply. De Forrest whispered to her often, but her brow only contracted at his interruption to her busy thought. Suddenly she noted Hemstead's eye resting on her with a questioning expression. Then with a seeming effort she came out of her revery, and tried to be her old self again. When Mr.
But she saw that Hemstead's awkwardness would wear away, through familiarity with society, and that, when at ease, he was simple and manly in manner. She also perceived that this seclusion from the world, which was the cause of his diffidence, had been employed in training and richly storing his mind.
Five minutes later he was urging his black horse towards the familiar place at a pace but a little more decorous than when seeking Hemstead's assistance on the memorable even ing of the accident. "Miss Martell is out," stolidly said the woman who answered his summons.
But he could see her blush, even in the moonlight. Without a word he assisted her oat, but had some difficulty with De Forrest, who, from the fumes of liquor and the cold air, had grown very drowsy. But Hemstead's grasp was so strong and masterful, that while he roused, he also steadied and supported him up the steps. Lottie said to the coachman, "Mr.
In the latter case a smile went round the ship, for Buckle almost invariably laid his student out, and when Tom woke again he was almost always in the humour for brown sherry. The connection was so well established that "a glass of Buckle" or "a bottle of civilisation" became current pleasantries on board the Currency Lass. Hemstead's province was that of the repairs, and he had his hands full.
An arr from Faust, that Marguerite sings at her spinning-wheel. I think I can give that pretty decently." She sang it sweetly, with taste and some power. Hemstead's appreciation was hearty, and she knew it was sincere.
Hemstead's confusion was so great as even to embarrass Miss Martell for a moment, and her face, from reminding one of a lily, suddenly suggested an exquisite pink rose. But before he was aware she had ensconced him in an easy chair at her side, and with a tact peculiarly her own had rallied his panic-stricken faculties into such order that he could again take command of them.
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