"I have such good news to tell you," he said, as he sank rather wearily into a chair.
"What is it?" asked Rachel. After the excitement of the evening his preoccupation rather damped her spirits. That it was not the time to spring her surprise upon him she felt at once, so she took up her needle work and sat down. She could not but notice the expression on his face. She could not think of any other word by which to describe it to herself, but radiant, and a longing that he did not live quite so up in the clouds, as she would have expressed it, took possession of her; he had evidently not heard her remark as she had met him at the door; or if he had heard it, it was to him of such infinitely minor importance than the news he was about to communicate to her, that he had ignored it.
As he was silent before answering her question Rachel said again, and he didn't notice the faint tone of impatience in the voice.
"What is your wonderful news? Do tell me."
"That's just it," he said looking joyfully at her. "It is wonderful. A man who has been the ringleader of a lot of harm in the parish, has to-night made the great decision; in other words, he has been converted."
"Oh Luke, how beautiful," said Rachel.
Rachel knew what this news meant to her husband. For a moment the study was forgotten.
"He has only twice been to the class;" continued Luke, "and the first time he made himself troublesome by arguing with me. But he came again to my surprise, and to-night, well, it was wonderful. It only shows what God can do. It was just a word of Scripture that struck him and would not let him rest. He was quite broken down."
Rachel's work had dropped on to her knee and she sat looking at her husband. His face reminded her of the parable of the lost sheep and of the joy in the Presence of God over one sinner that repented. Even in the days of their perfect courtship, even on that wonderful moonlight night on the sea at Southwold, she had never seen such joy on his face. His love for his Lord, and His work, exceeded, evidently, every other love and interest. Rachel looking into her own heart and remembering how comparatively little communion she experienced with her Lord, compared to Luke, felt inclined to weep. She had been wholly taken up with her husband and his home and with the determination of keeping him all to herself. She had not given much time to prayer; and even in those moments in which she had knelt down night and morning she found her thoughts wandering away to Luke, and revolving round him. Her conscience accused her loudly.
"I will bring in your cocoa," she said rising, "Polly has gone to bed."