"It was a time when you said I was very wrong," said Eleanor meekly, "so do not call it back."
He bent forward to kiss her, which did not steady Eleanor's thoughts at all.
"Do you want preaching?" he said.
"Yes indeed! It will do me good."
"I will give you some words to think of, that I lived in all yesterday. 'Beloved of God.' They are wonderful words, that Paul says belong to all the saints; and they were about me yesterday like a halo of glory, from morning to night."
Now Eleanor was all right; now she recognized Mr. Rhys and herself, and listened to every word with her old delight in them. Now she could use her eyes and look at him, though she well saw that he was considering her with that full, moved tenderness that she had felt in him all day; even when he was talking and thinking of other things he did not cease to remember her.
"Eleanor, what do you know about the meaning of those words?"
"Little!" she said. "And yet, a little."
"You know that we were Gentiles, carried away unto these dumb idols—or after others in our own hearts—as helplessly as the poor heathen around us. But we have got the benefit of that word,—'I will call them my people, which were not my people; and her beloved, which was not beloved.'"
"Yes!"