pirits in a young man. "This must be corrected," he remarked.
"Cultivate cheerfulness, Arthur. I am myself, thank God, a naturally
cheerful man. My mind reflects, in some degree (and reflects
gratefully), the brightness and beauty which are part of the great
scheme of creation. A similar disposition is to be cultivated--I know
instances of it in my own experience. Add one more instance, and you
will really gratify me. In its seasons of rejoicing, our Church is
eminently cheerful. Shall I add another encouragement? A great trust is
about to be placed in you. Be socially agreeable, or you will fail to
justify the trust. This is Father Benwell's little sermon. I think it
has a merit, Arthur--it is a sermon soon over."

Penrose looked up at his superior, eager to hear more.

He was a very young man. His large, thoughtful, well-opened gray eyes,
and his habitual refinement and modesty of manner, gave a certain
attraction to his personal appearance, of which it stood in some need.
In stature he was little and lean; his hair had become prematurely thin
over his broad forehead; there were hollows already in his cheeks, and
marks on either side of his thin, delicate lips. He looked like a person
who had passed many miserable hours in needlessly despairing of
himself and his prospects. With all this, there was something in him so
irresistibly truthful and sincere--so suggestive, even where he might
be wrong, of a purely conscientious belief in his own errors--that he
attached people to him without an effort, and often without being aware
of it himself. What would his friends have said if they had been
told that the religious enthusiasm of this gentle, self-distrustful,
melancholy man, might, in its very innocence of suspicion and
self-seeking, be perverted to dangerous uses in unscrupulous hands? His
friends would, one and all, have received the scandalous assertion with
contempt; and Penrose himself, if he had heard of it, might have failed
to control his temper for the first time in his life.

"May I ask a question, without giving offense?" he said, timidly.

Father Benwell took his hand. "My dear Arthur, let us open our minds to
each other without reserve. What is your question?"

"You have spoken, Father, of a great trust that is about to be placed in
me."

"Yes. You are anxious, no doubt, to hear what it is?"

"I am anxious to know, in the first place, if it requires me to go back
to Oxford."

Father Benwell dropped