“Man! man!” she cried suddenly, her eyes lighting up. “Repent, repent, while yet you may! The day of grace has not gone by! Turn from your sins! Abhor them! Flee from them! Put behind you the evil and strive after a new life.” She raised her hands as she spoke, and her voice rang over to where Nannie stood by the cart.
This outburst of exhortation had the effect of making Williams very shy. Intensely reserved himself, it was a real shock to him to see a stranger so entirely carried away by feeling; he did not know where to look, and could only stare at a little tuft of moss growing in the wall of the chapel. His face appeared almost sullen. He could see that her lips were moving, and that she passed her handkerchief once or twice over her face. Presently her calm returned.
“Do you wish to lead an honest life?” she asked.
“I do indeed; Gospel truth I do.”
“You are a strong man and ought to do a good day’s work. Will you do it, if I give it you?”
“None shall do a better than I.”
“Then I will try you. You must come to me to-morrow at mid-day, and I will speak to you. You do not know who I am, I suppose?” she inquired as an after-thought.
“No, ma’am, I don’t indeed.”
“I am Mrs. Walters of Great Masterhouse,” she replied with a certain stiffness. Her position as a rich woman, the isolation she had made for herself, and the interested looks which followed her whenever she went abroad were not without their charm for her, for, like many who take the effacing of themselves very seriously, she had a touch of what might be called inverted vanity.
The familiarity of her face now explained itself to George, and he had a strong feeling of repulsion at the thought of working among everything which had belonged to Rhys. But a man struggling for his daily bread can take no account of such imaginings, and he knew that he ought to be sincerely thankful for what had happened.