"No, master," said Oliver bluntly. "I couldn't ha' given it up vor yew. I did try, but I couldn't, I promised to give it up vor Sibley."
"When?"
"Months ago. Her told me something, and 'twur then I promised to give it up vor Sibley."
"What did she tell you?"
"Her had received a message from God."
These were strange words from the mouth of Oliver Vorse.
"Her took 'em from yew, master," he added apologetically.
Searell moved aside, gazing at the black snakelike fern-roots. Then he lifted up his eyes in torment. His creatures finding in the garden what he had missed, taking his God away from him! the dull Sibley his superior, reaping the harvest that he had sown! the dull Oliver reforming for her, and not for him! And he had nothing, he was alone, as much alone in his garden as in the mission-church, obeying the printed rubrics and hearing the call, "Who told you to do this? Go out and find Me, for I am in the solitudes."
"You are educating yourselves," he suggested, turning back. "You and Sibley are improving your minds by learning. I have done that much for you."
Oliver said nothing, his head was down, and his hands grubbed at the great roots. There was no answer to make.