Edward gave out his text:
'Of those that Thou hast given me have I lost none.'
All his tenderness for Hazel and her following crept into his sermon. He spoke of the power of protection as almost the greatest good in life, the finest work. He said it was the inevitable reward of self-sacrifice, and that, if one were ready for self-denial, one could protect the beloved from all harm.
There was a crunching of gravel outside, and Reddin walked in. He sat down just behind Hazel. Edward glanced up, pleased to have so important an addition to the congregation, and continued his sermon. Hazel, red and white by turns, was in such a state of miserable embarrassment that Reddin was almost sorry for her. But he did not move his gaze from her profile.
At last Mrs. Marston, ever watchful for physical symptoms, whispered,
'Are you finding it oppressive? Would you like to go out?'
Hazel went out with awkward haste, and Mrs. Marston followed, having mouthed incomprehensible comfort to Edward.
He went on stumblingly with the service.
Reddin, realizing that he had been femininely outwitted, smiled. Edward wondered who this distinguished-looking man with the merciless mouth might be. He thought the smile was one of amusement at his expense. But Reddin was summing him up with a good deal of respect.
Here was a man who would need reckoning with.
'The parson's got a temper,' he reflected, looking at him keenly, 'and, by the Lord, I'm going to rouse it!'