Whereupon the Elf put on a cunning look of innocence and said—-

“I didn’t know it was unkind to say he was like you, Janet.”

The Evelyn pair had gone-—after this introduction of Jock and Sydney-—to their own sitting-room, which opened out of that of the Brownlows, and the door was soon unclosed, for the two families meant to make up only one party.  The two mothers seemed as if they had been friends of old standing, and Mrs. Evelyn was looking with delighted wonder at her eldest son, who had gained much in flesh and in vigour ever since Dr. Medlicott’s last and most successful prescription of a more pressing subject of interest than his own cough.

She had an influence about her that repressed all discords in her presence, and the evening was a cheerful and happy one, leaving a soothing sense upon all.

Then came the awakening to the sounds of the monastery bells, and in due time the small English congregation assembled, and one at least was trying to force an attention that had freely wandered ever before.

The preacher was the chance visitor, an elderly clergyman with silvery hair.  He spoke extempore from Job xxviii.

          Where shall wisdom be found? 
          And where is the place of understanding? 
          Man knoweth not the price thereof;
          Neither is it found in the land of the living. 
          The depth saith, “It is not in me:” 
          And the sea saith, “It is not with me.” 
          It cannot be gotten for gold. 
          Neither shall silver be weighed for the price thereof.

What he said was unlike any sermon the young people had heard before.  It began with a description of the alchemist’s labours, seeking for ever for the one great arcanum, falling by the way upon numerous precious discoveries, yet never finding the one secret which would have rendered all common things capable of being made of priceless value.  He drew this quest into a parable of man’s search for the One Great Good, the wisdom that is the one thing necessary to give weight, worth, and value to the life which, without it, is vanity of vanities.  Many a choice gift of thought, of science, of philosophy, of beauty, of poetry, has been brought to light in its time by the seekers, but in vain.  All rang empty, hollow, and heartless, like sounding brass or tinkling cymbal, till the secret should be won.  And it is no unattainable secret.  It is the love of Christ that truly turneth all things into fine gold.  One who has attained that love has the true transmuting and transforming power of making life golden, golden in brightness, in purity, in value, so as to be “a present for a mighty King.”

Then followed a description of the glory and worth of the true, noble, faithful manhood of a “happy warrior,” ever going forward and carrying through achievements for the love of the Great Captain.  Each in turn, the protector of the weak, the redresser of wrong, the patriot, the warrior, the scholar, the philosopher, the parent, the wife, the sister, or the child, the healthful or the sick, whoever has that one constraining secret, the love of Christ, has his service even here, whether active or passive, veritably golden, the fruit unto holiness, the end everlasting life.