this--"

"I have openly taken the pledge," Mr. Windle repeated
conclusively--"I'm very sorry. I'm afraid, too, that the sacristan
has gone. But I think the organ blower was there when I came in; I
fancy I heard him."

"Ah, yes; but he was not at Communion."

"Of course not--then I'm sorry. I shall be sure to see some one who
was, and I'll send them along. We shall see you up at the house soon.
Don't be long--you'll forgive my going on ahead, but I'm afraid his
lordship may have arrived already. I'll send you any one if I see
them. And I'm bound to meet somebody. They haven't been gone very
long."

He had gone. The Rev. Samuel was left alone with the half-filled
goblet of noxious wine in his hand. For some moments he continued
to stand in the same position, looking down into the crimson depth
of liquid that lay, scintillating lazily, in the silver bowl.

At last he raised it to his lips and sipped it--once, twice, three
times. Then he waited. "Wine to make glad the heart of man." The words
came to his mind. Wine was a terrible power, a fascinating evil. He
thanked God that he had never fallen a prey to its fascinations. This
wine was very sweet. He liked sweet things. Once he had tasted
champagne when dining at the house of Lady Bray. He had thought that
disagreeable, though at the moment he had murmured that it was
excellent wine; but he had been unable to understand how any man could
take of that more than was good for him. This wine, of course, that