The vicar and his son walked on some paces in silence, then Harry said in a more cheerful tone, "I think that I'll drop in at Garth's cottage to-day; I know that the kind old folk won't be sorry to see me enter it again."
"And you might find some opportunity, Harry, of giving a word in season."
"I'm a little shy of doing that," replied the young officer; "I don't feel myself fit to teach others, there's so much that I myself need to learn."
"But you have learned two things, my son, which are the very root and foundation of all Christian knowledge; you have learned that you are a sinner, and that Jesus Christ is a Saviour. It is not the minister alone who is bound to spread the glad tidings of salvation. The woman of Samaria, as soon as she had found the Messiah, left her water-pot, and hastened away to carry the good news to all whom she met."
"I believe that it is a cowardly feeling of shame that so often keeps us from speaking on the subject of religion," said Harry; "at least it is so with me."
"Certainly cowardice is the last thing of which any one but yourself would have accused the winner of the Albert medal," observed the vicar with a smile. "You showed, on that awful night of the shipwreck, how ready you were to risk your life or limb to save the bodies of your fellow creatures; you are scarcely the man to flinch back when far more precious souls are in danger. But here come two of the girls to seek you; our sailor is not likely to be left much to himself after ten years of absence. Let us go and meet your sisters, my son."
[CHAPTER III.]
A Service of Obedience.
"I TOLD you he'd come, I told ye, mistress!" exclaimed Michael Garth, in a tone of triumph, as he glanced in through the open cottage door at his wife, who was darning her good man's stockings.
Up started old Martha at the words, the threaded needle dropped from her fingers, and the stockings from her knee.