will
accept his conditions."

"What are the conditions, Mr. Rhys?"

"You must be his servant. And you must trust all your little heart and
life to him."

"I must be his servant?" said Julia.

"Yes, heart and soul, to obey him. And you must trust him to forgive
you and save you for his blood's sake."

Doubtless there had been something in the speaker himself that had held
the child's attention so fast all this while. Her eyes had never
wandered from his face; she had stood in docile wise looking at him and
answering his questions and listening, won by the commentary she read
in his face on what her friend was saying. A strange light kindled in
it as he spoke; there were lines of affection and tenderness that came
in the play of lips and eyes; and when he named his Master, there had
shined in his face as it were the reflection of the glory he alluded
to. Julia's eyes were not the only ones that had been held; though it
was only Julia's tongue that said anything in reply. Standing now and
looking still into the face she had been reading, her words were an
unconscious rendering of what she found there.

"Mr. Rhys, I think he was very good."

The water filled those clear eyes at that, but he only returned the
child's gaze and said nothing.

"I will take the conditions, Mr. Rhys," Julia went on.

"The Lord make it so!" he said gravely.

"But what is the helmet, Mr. Rhys?"

"When you have taken the conditions, little one, you will know." He
rose up.

"Mr. Rhys," said Eleanor rising also, "I have listened to you, but I do
not quite understand you."

"I recommend you to ask better teaching, Miss Powle."

"But I would like to know exactly what you mean, and what you meant, by
that 'helmet' you speak of so often?"

He looked steadily now at the fair young face beside him, which told so
plainly of the danger lately passed through. Eleanor could not return,
though she suffered the examination. His answer was delayed while he
made it.

"Do you ask from a sense of need?" he said.

Eleanor looked up then and answered, "Yes."

"To say, 'I know that my Redeemer liveth'--that is it," he said. "Then
the head is covered--even from fear of evil."

It was impossible that Eleanor ever should forget the look that went
with the words, and which had prevented her own gaze from seeking the
ground again. The look of inward rejoicing and outward fearlessness;
the fire and the softness that at once overspread his face. "He w