their souls, was the
effect of Halborough's address upon the occupants of the manor-house pew,
including the owner of the estate. These thought they knew how to
discount the mere sensational sermon, how to minimize flash oratory to
its bare proportions; but they had yielded like the rest of the assembly
to the charm of the newcomer.

Mr. Fellmer, the landowner, was a young widower, whose mother, still in
the prime of life, had returned to her old position in the family mansion
since the death of her son's wife in the year after her marriage, at the
birth of a fragile little girl. From the date of his loss to the present
time, Fellmer had led an inactive existence in the seclusion of the
parish; a lack of motive seemed to leave him listless. He had gladly
reinstated his mother in the gloomy house, and his main occupation now
lay in stewarding his estate, which was not large. Mrs. Fellmer, who had
sat beside him under Halborough this morning, was a cheerful,
straightforward woman, who did her marketing and her alms-giving in
person, was fond of old-fashioned flowers, and walked about the village
on very wet days visiting the parishioners. These, the only two great
ones of Narrobourne, were impressed by Joshua's eloquence as much as the
cottagers.

Halborough had been briefly introduced to them on his arrival some days
before, and, their interest being kindled, they waited a few moments till
he came out of the vestry, to walk down the churchyard-path with him.
Mrs. Fellmer spoke warmly of the sermon, of the good fortune of the
parish in his advent, and hoped he had found comfortable quarters.

Halborough, faintly flushing, said that he had obtained very fair
lodgings in the roomy house of a farmer, whom he named.

She feared he would find it very lonely, especially in the evenings, and
hoped they would see a good deal of him. When would he dine with them?
Could he not come that day--it must be so dull for him the first Sunday
evening in country lodgings?

Halborough replied that it would give him much pleasure, but that he
feared he must decline. 'I am not altogether alone,' he said. 'My
sister, who has just returned from Brussels, and who felt, as you do,
that I should be rather dismal by myself, has accompanied me hither to
stay a few days till she has put my rooms in order and set me going. She
was too fatigued to come to church, and is waiting for me now at the
farm.'

'Oh, but bring your sister--that w