Noel's little finger unhooked itself, but her eyes stole round to young
Morland's eyes, and there was a light in them which lingered through
the singing and the prayers. At last, in the reverential rustle of the
settling congregation, a surpliced figure mounted the pulpit.

"I come not to bring Peace, but a sword."

Pierson looked up. He felt deep restfulness. There was a pleasant light
in this church; the hum of a country bluebottle made all the difference
to the quality of silence. No critical thought stirred within him, nor
any excitement. He was thinking: 'Now I shall hear something for my
good; a fine text; when did I preach from it last?' Turned a little away
from the others, he saw nothing but the preacher's homely face up there
above the carved oak; it was so long since he had been preached to,
so long since he had had a rest! The words came forth, dropped on
his forehead, penetrated, met something which absorbed them, and
disappeared. 'A good plain sermon!' he thought. 'I suppose I'm stale; I
don't seem--' "Let us not, dear brethren," droned the preacher's earnest
voice, "think that our dear Lord, in saying that He brought a sword,
referred to a physical sword. It was the sword of the spirit to which He
was undoubtedly referring, that bright sword of the spirit which in all
ages has cleaved its way through the fetters imposed on men themselves
by their own desires, imposed by men on other men in gratification of
their ambitions, as we have had so striking an example in the invasion
by our cruel enemies of a little neighbouring country which had done
them no harm. Dear brethren, we may all bring swords." Pierson's chin
jerked; he raised his hand quickly and passed it over his face. 'All
bring swords,' he thought, 'swords--I wasn't asleep--surely!' "But let
us be sure that our swords are bright; bright with hope, and bright with
faith, that we may see them flashing among the carnal desires of this