Volume I Part 7 (1/2)

”It is the Lord himself--the Lord Jesus Christ--the Lord of glory. He thought it not robbery to be equal with G.o.d; but he made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men; and being found in fas.h.i.+on as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient unto death--even the death of the cross. So now he is exalted a Prince and a Saviour--able to save all who will accept his conditions.”

”What are the conditions, Mr. Rhys?”

”You must be his servant. And you must trust all your little heart and life to him.”

”I must be his servant?” said Julia.

”Yes, heart and soul, to obey him. And you must trust him to forgive you and save you for his blood's sake.”

Doubtless there had been something in the speaker himself that had held the child's attention so fast all this while. Her eyes had never wandered from his face; she had stood in docile wise looking at him and answering his questions and listening, won by the commentary she read in his face on what her friend was saying. A strange light kindled in it as he spoke; there were lines of affection and tenderness that came in the play of lips and eyes; and when he named his Master, there had s.h.i.+ned in his face as it were the reflection of the glory he alluded to. Julia's eyes were not the only ones that had been held; though it was only Julia's tongue that said anything in reply. Standing now and looking still into the face she had been reading, her words were an unconscious rendering of what she found there.

”Mr. Rhys, I think he was very good.”

The water filled those clear eyes at that, but he only returned the child's gaze and said nothing.

”I will take the conditions, Mr. Rhys,” Julia went on.

”The Lord make it so!” he said gravely.

”But what is the helmet, Mr. Rhys?”

”When you have taken the conditions, little one, you will know.” He rose up.

”Mr. Rhys,” said Eleanor rising also, ”I have listened to you, but I do not quite understand you.”

”I recommend you to ask better teaching, Miss Powle.”

”But I would like to know exactly what you mean, and what you meant, by that 'helmet' you speak of so often?”

He looked steadily now at the fair young face beside him, which told so plainly of the danger lately pa.s.sed through. Eleanor could not return, though she suffered the examination. His answer was delayed while he made it.

”Do you ask from a sense of need?” he said.

Eleanor looked up then and answered, ”Yes.”

”To say, 'I know that my Redeemer liveth'--that is it,” he said. ”Then the head is covered--even from fear of evil.”

It was impossible that Eleanor ever should forget the look that went with the words, and which had prevented her own gaze from seeking the ground again. The look of inward rejoicing and outward fearlessness; the fire and the softness that at once overspread his face. ”He was looking at his Master then”--was the secret conclusion of Eleanor's mind. Even while she thought it, he had turned and was gone again with Julia. She stood still some minutes, weak as she was. She was not sure that she perfectly comprehended what that helmet might be, but of its reality there could be no questioning. She had seen its plumes wave over one brow!

”I know that my Redeemer liveth”--Eleanor sat down and mused over the words. She had heard them before; they were an expression of somebody's faith, she was not sure whose; but what faith was it? Faith that the Redeemer lived? Eleanor did not question that. She had repeated the Apostle's Creed many a time. Yet a vague feeling from the words she could not a.n.a.lyze--or arising perhaps from the look that had interpreted them--floated over her mind, disturbing it with an exceeding sense of want. She felt desolate and forlorn. What was to be done? Julia and Mr. Rhys were gone. The garden was empty. There was no more chance of counsel-taking to-night. Eleanor felt in no mood for gay gossip, and slowly mounted the stairs to her own room, from whence she declined to come down again that night. She would like to find the settlement of this question, before she went back into the business of the world and was swallowed up by it, as she would soon be. Eleanor locked the door, and took up a Bible, and tried to find some good by reading in it. Her eyes and head were tired before her mind received any light. She was weak yet. She found the Bible very unsatisfactory; and gave it up.

CHAPTER III.

IN THE DRAWING-ROOM.

”Why, all the souls that were were forfeit once; And he that might the vantage best have took, Found out the remedy.”

”You can come down stairs to-night, Eleanor,” said Mrs. Powle the next morning.

”I was down stairs last night--in the afternoon, I mean--mamma.”