The Love That Prevailed

by Frank Frankfort Moore

And having been led to such a conclusion, it was only reasonable that he should make a resolution that, if he should ever be so fortunate as to meet with a virtuous lady whom he should find to possess those qualities which promised most readily to advance the work which he had at heart, he would not be slow to ask her to be his companion to such an end.

This point settled to his satisfaction (as he thought), he mounted his horse, after a week's stay in the valley of the Lana, and made his way to the tinners of Camlin, twenty miles further along the coast Here he was received with open arms, and preached from his rock pulpit to thousands of eager men and women an hour after sunrise on a summer morning.

On still for another fortnight, in wilder districts, among people who rarely entered a church, and whom the church made no attempt to reach. These were the people for him. He was told that he was going forth to sow the seed in stony ground, but when he came and began to sow, he found that it fell upon fruitful soil. Here it was impossible for him to find a huge congregation, so scattered were the inhabitants. But this was no obstacle to him: he asked for no more than a group of hearers in every place, and by the time that night came he found that he had preached to thousands since sunrise. Beginning sometimes at five o'clock in the morning, he would preach on the outskirts of a village and hold a second service before breakfasting six miles away. It was nothing for him to preach half a dozen times and ride thirty miles in one of these days.

But as he went further and further on this wonderful itinerary of his, that sense of loneliness of which he had become aware at Porthawn seemed to grow upon him. During those intervals of silence which he spent on horseback, his feeling of loneliness appeared to increase, until at last there came upon him a dread lest he should affect his labours. He had a fear that a despondent note might find its way into his preaching, and when under such an influence he made a strong effort in the opposite direction, he was conscious of an artificial note; and, moreover, by the true instinct of the man who talks to men, he was conscious that it was detected by his hearers.

He was disappointed in himself—humiliated. How was it that for years he had been able to throw off this feeling of walking alone, through the world, or making no effort to throw it off, to glory in it, as it were—to feel all the stronger because of it, inasmuch as it could not come without bringing with it the reflection that he—he alone—had been chosen to deliver the message to the multitudes—the message of Light to the people that walked in darkness?

He could not understand how the change had come about in him, and not being able to understand it, he felt the more humiliated.

And then, one day, riding slowly along the coach road, he saw a young woman standing waiting for a change of horses for her post chaise at the door of a small inn.

He started, for she had fair hair and a fresh face whose features bore some resemblance to those of Nelly Polwhele—he started, for there came upon him, with the force of a revelation, the knowledge that this was the companionship for which he was longing—that unconsciously, she had been in his thoughts—some way at the back of his thoughts, to be sure, but still there—that, only since he had been her companion had his need for some sweet and helpful companionship become impressed upon him..

He rode on to his destination overwhelmed by the surprise at the result of this glimpse which had been given to him into the depths of his own heart. The effect seemed to him as if with the sight of that stranger—that young woman on the roadside—a flash of lightning had come, showing him in an instant what was in the depths of his heart.

He tried to bring himself to believe that he was mistaken.