They had gone straight to the cliffs, hoping for a breath of air from the sea to refresh them; but they were disappointed; the air was motionless and the reflection of the sunlight from the waves was dazzling in its brilliancy.
“I should have thought that the very weight of this heavy atmosphere would make the sea like glass,” said Wesley, while they rested on the summit of the cliff. “And yet there are waves such as I have never seen on this part of the coast unless when something akin to a gale was blowing.”
“I daresay there was a strong breeze blowing, though we did not feel it in the shelter of the hollow of the Tor,” said his companion.
“True; it would require a strong wind to sweep away the mist so suddenly,” said Wesley.
“Ah, sir,” said the other, “I did not think of a wind in that connection. Was it the fingers of the wind, think you, that swept that thick veil aside, or was it the Hand that rent in twain the veil of the Temple?”
“I am reproached, brother,” said Wesley. “Let us give thanks unto God. May He give us grace to think of all things as coming from Him—whether they take the form of a mist which obscures His purpose, or the darkness of a tempest on which He rides. I know myself wanting in faith at all times—in that faith without reserve which a child has in his father. I confess that for a moment in the morning I had the same thought as that which was expressed by the old man who joined us: I thought it possible that that fog which threatened to frustrate our walk had been sent by the Enemy. Should I have thought so if our work had been hindered in very truth? I dare not say no to that question. But now I know that it helped rather than obstructed, us.”
“There can be no doubt about that,” said Hartwell. “For myself, I say that I was never so deeply impressed in my life as at that moment when I found myself looking at you; you were speaking of the world awakening, and it seemed to me that I had been asleep—listening to the sound of your voice—the voice of a dream, and then I was full awake, I knew not how. I tell you, Mr. Wesley, I was not conscious of the change that was taking place—from darkness to light.”
“Nor was I,” said Wesley. “My eyes were closed fast while I was preaching. I had closed them to shut out that incongruous picture of obscurity, while I thought of the picture of the breaking of light; when I opened my eyes the picture that I had been striving to paint was before me. It was the Lord's doing.”
While they remained resting on the cliff the officer of the Preventive men came upon them. He knew Hartwell, and had, when Wesley had been in the neighbourhood before, thanked him for the good influence his preaching had in checking the smuggling.
He now greeted them cordially and enquired if they had come from the village, adding that he hoped the fishing boats had not suffered from the effects of the tide.