congregation: she would take her
New Testament, and spend the sunny day in the open air. In the evening
he was coming, and would preach in the little chapel. If only Juliet
might hear him too! But she would not ask her to go.

Juliet was better, for fatigue had compelled sleep. The morning had
brought her little hope, however, no sense of resurrection. A certain
dead thing had begun to move in its coffin; she was utterly alone with
it, and it made the world feel a tomb around her. Not all resurrections
are the resurrection of life, though in the end they will be found, even
to the lowest birth of the power of the enemy, to have contributed
thereto. She did not get up to breakfast; Helen persuaded her to rest,
and herself carried it to her. But she rose soon after, and declared
herself quite well.

The rector drove to Glaston in his dog-cart to read prayers. Helen went
out into the park with her New Testament and George Herbert. Poor Juliet
was left with Mrs. Bevis, who happily could not be duller than usual,
although it was Sunday. By the time the rector returned, bringing his
curate with him, she was bored almost beyond endurance. She had not yet
such a love of wisdom as to be able to bear with folly. The foolish and
weak are the most easily disgusted with folly and weakness which is not
of their own sort, and are the last to make allowances for them. To
spend also the evening with the softly smiling old woman, who would not
go across the grass after such a rain the night before, was a thing not
to be contemplated. Juliet borrowed a pair of galoshes, and insisted on
going to the chapel. In vain the rector and his wife dissuaded her.
Neither Helen nor her husband said a word.

CHAPTER XXXI

A CONSCIENCE.

The chapel in the park at Nestley, having as yet received no color, and
having no organ or choir, was a cold, uninteresting little place. It was
neat, but had small beauty, and no history. Yet even already had begun
to gather in the hearts of two or three of the congregation a feeling of
quiet sacredness about it: some soft airs of the spirit-wind had been
wandering through their souls as they sat there and listened. And a
gentle awe, from old associations with lay worship, stole like a soft
twilight over Juliet as she entered. Even the antral dusk of an old
reverence may help to form the fitting mood through which shall slide
unhindered the still small voice that makes appeal to what of God is yet
awake