A pile of snow-clouds was heaving up towards the moon, which fringed their jagged outlines with silver, unearthly bright from the blackness below.
"You would say, 'gloomily beautiful;'" said Mr. Lacy.
He was close beside her, and approachable as ever; and Charley held Mrs. Dana and Lynn in conversation. In one sentence, she expressed her sense of obligation, and her regret that he had had so much trouble in executing her commission. His face was in the shade, but she felt his look.
"Nothing is a trouble to me, that promotes your happiness."
She went back to the parlor, with a tumultuous joy at heart. The full significance of his words she did not understand till long afterwards.
"Mr. Lacy should study for the ministry;" said Mrs. Dana.
"He does more good as he is;" replied Charley, stoutly. "If all Christians performed their duty as well, you and I would live to see the Millennium. He can reach men, who would fly at the glimpse of a white cravat. There is some charm about the man; his religion is a part of himself; and he carries it everywhere he goes. I have seen the wildest fellows I know, cluster around him, and introduce the subject, for the pleasure of hearing him talk. He knows when to begin, and when to leave off. He says plain things to me; I might knock down another man who took the liberty; I thank him, and am sincere in so doing."
"I love to listen to him; but he makes me very uncomfortable;" said Mrs. Dana.
"It is so with me;" responded Lynn. "Our conferences always leave me out of humour with myself, and envious of him."