"I lived in the midst of it for six years," said Rachel. "I did not cast
in my lot with the poor, for I was one of them, and earned my bread
among them. Miss Gresley's book may not be palatable in some respects,
the district visitor and the woman missionary are certainly treated with
harshness, but, as far as my experience goes, _The Idyll_ is a true word
from first to last."

There was in Rachel's voice a restrained force that vaguely stirred all
the occupants of the room. Every one looked at her, and for a moment no
one spoke. She became quite colorless.

"Very striking. Just what I should have said in her place," said Sybell
to herself. "I will ask her again."

"I can hear it raining," said Doll's voice from the head of the table to
the company in general. "If it will only go on for a week without
stopping there may be some hope for the crops yet."

The conversation buzzed up again, and Rachel turned instantly to Hugh,
before Mr. Harvey, leaning forward with his ring, had time to address
her.

Hugh alone saw what a superhuman effort it had been to her to overcome
her shrinking from mentioning, not her previous poverty, but her
personal experience. She had sacrificed her natural reserve, which he
could see was great; she had even set good taste at defiance to defend
Hester Gresley's book. Hugh had shuddered as he heard her speak. He felt
that he could not have obtruded himself on so mixed an assembly. Yet he
saw that it had cost her more to do so than it would have cost him.