it was
plain that she longed to believe it the glad reflection of the last
ten minutes' spiritual experience of many who heard her. Lindsay's
perception of this was immediate and keen, and when her eyes rested for
an instant of glad inquiry upon his in the chartered intimacy of her
calling, he felt a pang of compunction. It was a formless reproach, too
vague for anything like a charge, but it came nearest to defining itself
in the idea that he had gone too far--he who had not left his seat. When
the hymn was finished, and Ensign Sand said, "The meeting is now open
for testimonies," he knew that all her hope was upon him, though she
looked at the screen above his head; and he sat abashed, with a prodigal
sense surging through him of what he would rejoice to do for her in
compensation. In the little chilly silence that followed he surprised
his own eyes moist with disappointment--it had all been so anxious and
so vain--and he felt relief and gratitude when the man who beat the drum
stood up and announced that he had been saved for eleven years, with
details about how badly he stood in need of it when it happened.

"Hallelujah!" said Ensign Sand cheerfully, with a meretricious air
of hearing it for the first time. "Any more?" and a Norwegian sailor
lurched shamefacedly upon his feet. He had a couple of inches of
straggling yellow beard all round his face, and fingered an old felt
hat.

"I haf' to say only dis word. I goin' sdop by Jesus. Long time I subbose
I sdop by Jesus. I subbose--"

"Glory be to God!" remarked Ensign Sand again, spiking the guns of the
Duke's Own who were inclined to be amused. "That will do, thank you.
Now, is there nobody else? Speak up, friends. It'll do you no harm, none
whatever; it'll do you that much good you'll be surprised. Now, who'll
be the next to say a word for Jesus?" She was nodding encouragement at
the negro cook as if she knew him for a wavering soul, and he, sunk in
his gleaming white collar, was aware, in silent smiling misery, that the
expectations of the meeting were toward him. Laura had again hidden her
eyes in her hand. The negro fingered his watch chain foolishly, and
the prettiest of the East Indian half-castes tried hard to disguise her
perception that an African in his best clothes under conviction of sin
was the funniest thing in the world. The silence seemed to focus itself
upon the cook, who fumbled at his coat collar and cleared his voice. It
was a shock to all conce