"I shall do my duty, that always pleases me. And I need no warnings. I am not a creature made of nerves and fancies. I am afraid of no woman."
"Christina, as you are so fond of music, Theodora will take you with her to the organ-loft if you wish."
"O, brother, how happy I shall be!"
"Christina Campbell, you will sit decently in our own pew with your sister and myself."
"Poor Christina!" said Robert, and he laid his hand kindly on her shoulder as he passed.
"Poor Robert! Say that, and you say the truth," answered Mrs. Campbell.
It was a glorious day, the church and even the aisles were crowded and the doctor preached the finest sermon of his long pastorate. His tall, stately form, his piercing eyes, his thin face—austere but tender—were never so immediate and so solemnly authoritative, and every heart thrilled as in a grand resonant voice he cried:
"Now is Christ risen from the dead, and become the firstfruits of them that slept."
His preaching was usually logical, invasive, not to be forgotten, but this morning all he said was vitalized by his own lively, living faith. He had caught the very spirit of Paul, and was carried by it far beyond, and above all arguments and sequences, until his glowing climax could find no grander words than:
"Now is Christ risen from the dead, and become the firstfruits of them that slept."