a moment in the windy darkness, lit by the occasional glimmering
of a cloudy moon.

'Thank you, thank you, sir!' said the lad, eager and yet afraid to
speak, lest he should break the spell of memory. 'I should be sorry
indeed to have missed that!'

'Yes, it was fine, extraordinarily fine, the best he has ever given,
I think. Good night.'

And Langham turned away, his head sunk on his breast, his hands
behind him. Robert went to his room conscious of a momentary check
of feeling. But it soon passed, and he sat up late, thinking of
the sermon, or pouring out in a letter to his mother the new
hero-worship of which his mind was full.

A few days later, as it happened, came an invitation to the junior
exhibitioner to spend an evening at Mr. Grey's house. Elsmere went
in a state of curious eagerness and trepidation, and came away with
a number of fresh impressions which, when he had put them into
order, did but quicken his new-born sense of devotion. The quiet
unpretending house, with its exquisite neatness and its abundance
of books, the family life, with the heart-happiness underneath, and
the gentle trust and courtesy on the surface, the little touches
of austerity which betrayed themselves here and there in the household
ways--all these surroundings stole into the lad's imagination,
touched in him responsive fibres of taste and feeling.

But there was some surprise, too, mingled with the charm. He came,
still shaken, as it were, by the power of the sermon, expecting to