I could not help smiling, for in truth he had not preached a sermon at all.
"I see what you mean," said the old man. "For that matter Trelaske never could preach; and, mind you, I have been as bitter against dissent as any man, but—but he has done more for religion to-night than he has done for many a long year."
"Are you going to the prayer-meeting, Squire?" I asked.
"What, I! I go to a prayer-meeting!" And he laughed as though it were a joke.
"Yes," I said, "why not? That is, if—if you believe it has any meaning."
"Yes," he said, "why not? After all, why not? Are you sure you won't come up to supper?"
"Quite sure, thank you."
I wandered slowly back to my little house, thinking of what the Vicar had said. Yes, he was quite right. Never, during the beginning of the war, had I heard any one deny the existence of God. It might seem as if there were no God at all, when one remembered the deeds that had been done; yet no one seemed to doubt that God lived and reigned.
I had scarcely reached the footpath which led to my little copse when, to my surprise, I saw Mr. Josiah Lethbridge coming towards me. I judged that he had been to my house, though I did not know why he should do so.
"The evenings are stretching out, Mr. Lethbridge," I said, "aren't they? It is nearly half-past seven, and the daylight has not yet gone."