“How could you talk to him?” Marion said reproachfully. “He must be very unsafe.”
“Unsafe? Unsafe as a powder-train. But I don’t know that it is altogether his fault. He has been cramped and goaded and sat upon, and no one has taken the trouble to do anything but run counter to his opinions.”
“Because they are so wrong.”
“Not altogether wrong. They may get mixed up with no end of mistakes, but there are some which seem to me a little beyond our improving. He believes he may help some poor men and women up towards God,” said Captain Orde, speaking with tender reverence. “There is that, at all events.”
Winifred, who had been listening silently, turned round quickly and clasped her hands.
“O yes, we cannot judge him,” she said earnestly, “when we have never tried to do anything for him! I am so glad you have told us, Frank.”
All her feelings had been stirred and touched somehow that morning. We cannot explain how it is that very often this is so when there seems no particular reason for it, it may be a chance word that awakens a chain of ideas, or reaches springs which are sealed at other times when we take more trouble to get at them. The happy sunshine about her, the thoughts which had grown into life, quickened Winifreds sympathies into generous glow. Frank was looking at her, at the flush on her cheek, the eager kindness of her eyes, with a strange thrill in his heart that his words should have so moved her. He could have very easily forgotten David Stephens, if Marion had not said coldly,—
“Anthony will not be much obliged to you, Winifred.”
“O, Anthony will understand!” said Winifred, speaking with quick conviction. “It was natural that he should be annoyed about the chapel. That is another thing. But if Frank convinces him that the poor fellow is in earnest, Anthony will respect him, however much they may differ. I am sure he will try to help him.”
Frank Orde did not say any more. His eyes had an odd, wistful look in them, as if some discord had suddenly jarred; but Winifred was quite blind to the look. Perhaps this very want of self-consciousness, which dulled the perception of things that touched herself, was one secret of her power of influence. People who forget themselves seldom fail to impress others.