“This is the word,—the Christ,—on God’s part This is repentance and saving faith, on our part. It is the Gospel. And it came by the mouth, and the interpreting and confirming acts, of Jesus. The power of the acts was little matter; the expression of the acts was everything. He proclaimed forgiveness,—He healed disease; He reversed evil and turned it back. He changed death into life,—taking away the sting—the implantation—of it, which is sin. For evermore the might of the Redemption stands above the might of the Law that was transgressed.”
“You have dedicated your chapel, Mr. Kirkbright.”
Desire Ledwith said it, with that emotion which makes the voice sound restrained and deep; and as she said it, she turned to go back into the house.
CHAPTER XIX.
BLOSSOMING FERNS.
The minister’s covered carryall was borrowed from two miles off, to take Mrs. Argenter down to Tillington.
All she knew about the winter plan was that Miss Ledwith was a friend of Miss Kirkbright’s, had a large, old-fashioned house, and scarcely any household, and would be glad to have herself and Sylvie take rooms with her for several months. She had a vague idea that Miss Ledwith might be somewhat restricted in her means, and that to receive lodgers in a friendly way would be an “object” to her. She talked, indeed, with a gentle complaisance to Miss Kirkbright, about its not being exactly what they had intended,—they had thought of rooms at Hotel Pelham or Boylston, so central and so near the Libraries; but after all, what she needed most was quiet and no stairs; and she had a horror of elevators, and a dread of fire; so that this was really better, perhaps; and Miss Ledwith was a very sweet person.
Miss Euphrasia smiled; “sweet,” especially in the silvery tone in which Mrs. Argenter uttered it, was the last monosyllabic epithet she would have selected as applying to grave, earnest, downright Desire.
At East Keaton, the train stopped for five minutes.