"How then, Mr. Rhys? You mean heart-following?"
"That is what the Lord means. Look here—Paul says in the ninth verse,—'Whom I serve with my spirit in the gospel'—Following cannot have a different end in view from that of the person followed. And what was Christ's?—'My meat is to do the will of him that sent me, and to finish his work.' Are we servants of Christ after that rule, Miss Powle?"
The question had a singular intonation, as if the questioner were charging it home upon himself. Yet Eleanor knew he could answer it in the affirmative and that she could not; she sat silent without looking up. The old contrast of character recurred to her, in spite of the fact that her own had changed so much. She hung over the book, while her companion half abstractedly repeated,
"'My meat is to do the will of him that sent me.'—That makes a way of life of great simplicity."
"Is it always easy to find?" ventured Eleanor.
"Very!—if his will is all that we desire."
"But that is a very searching, deep question."
"Let it search, then. 'My meat is to do the will of him—' No matter what that may be, Miss Powle; our choice lies in this—that it is his will. And as soon as we set our hearts upon one or the other particular sort of work, or labour in any particular place, or even upon any given measure of success attending our efforts, so that we are not willing to have him reverse our arrangements,—we are getting to have too much will about it."
Eleanor looked up with some effort.
"You are making it a great matter, to be a true servant of Christ, Mr.
Rhys."