Mr. Diamond, again, took a different and more sympathising view of the poor preacher. But even he was very far from entertaining the same exalted admiration for Powell's character as was felt by Minnie. Matthew Diamond had an Englishman's ingrained antipathy to the uncontrolled display of feeling, from which Powell's Welsh blood by no means revolted. Diamond could never divest himself of a lurking notion that no man would publicly exhibit deep emotion if he could help it; and consequently he looked on all such exhibitions as rather pitiable manifestations of infirmity, or else as mere clap-trap and play-acting. Of the latter it was impossible to suspect Powell. Diamond had the touchstone of truthfulness within himself; and it sufficed to convince him that the preacher, however wild and mistaken, was sincere. "Yes," he said to Miss Bodkin, "there can be no doubt that the man's soul is as clear from guile as an infant's. But it is a pity he cannot suppress the outbursts of enthusiasm which exhaust him so much."
"He does not wish to suppress them," answered Minnie. "He looks on them as a means specially vouchsafed to him for moving others, and—to use his own words—saving souls. Some sober, sensible persons remind me, when they speak of David Powell, of a covey of barn-door fowls, complacently staring up at a lark, and exclaiming, 'Poor creature, how unpleasant it must be for it to have to soar and gyrate in that giddy fashion; and making that shrill noise all the time, too! How it must envy us our constitutions!'"
"I suppose I am one of the barn-door fowls, Miss Bodkin?"
"Well—perhaps! Or, rather, you have lived among them until it seems to you that higher-flying creatures have something a little ridiculous about them. And you forcibly restrain any upward tendencies of wing—at least in the presence of your mates of the barn-door."
"I am flattered to be credited with some upward tendencies, at any rate! But, Miss Bodkin, to drop metaphor, in which I cannot attempt to compete with you, I must be allowed to maintain that Powell's outbursts of excitement are neither good for himself nor others. They are morbid, and not the healthy expression of a healthy nature, like the lark's singing and soaring."
"You have seen Powell since his return. How does he seem to be in health?"
"In bodily health not, perhaps, so much amiss, although he is greatly emaciated and startlingly pale. But his mind is in a strange state."
"He was always enthusiastic."
"He is enthusiastic for others, but as regards himself his mind is a prey to overwhelming gloom. I see a great change for the worse in him in that respect."
Minnie felt a strong desire to see the preacher again. She compassionated him from her heart, and thought she might be able to administer some comfort to him, as regarded Rhoda Maxfield. There were days when Minnie was able to walk from one room to another with the assistance of a crutched stick; and it occurred to her that if Mrs. Thimbleby would allow her house to be made the place of meeting, she might see and speak with Powell there more privately, and with less danger of exciting gossiping remark, than elsewhere. Minnie had once or twice latterly driven to the widow Thimbleby's house to see Mrs. Errington, or leave a message for her, although she had never mounted to her sitting-room. For the ladder-like staircase, which was an imaginary difficulty in the way of Castalia's visits to her mother-in-law, was a very real obstacle to Minnie Bodkin.