"What is going to happen, I wonder, Margery?" whispered Grace,
impatiently; and presently the tinsmith leant across the book-board and
kindly volunteered the information that they were going to have a
"strange minister the night, and a special collection for some
new-fangled thing."

And then Grace turned towards the pulpit in time to see the "strange
minister," who had just entered it. He was a tall man, of a stately
though easy presence, with grace and life in every gesture. As she
looked at him Grace Campbell was reminded of an historical scene, a
picture of which hung in the old hall at Kirklands, of a mixed group of
Cavaliers and Puritans. This preacher seemed in his appearance curiously
to combine the varied characteristics of both the types of men in these
portraits. That graceful flexibility of tone and movement, the high
forehead and waving locks, surely belong to the gallant old Cavalier,
but there is something of the stern Puritan too. The resoluteness of
the firm though mobile mouth betokens a strength of moral purpose, which
does not belong to the caste of the mere court gentleman; about those
delicately-cut nostrils there dwells a possibility of quivering
indignation, and in the eyes that are looking broodingly down on the
congregation true pathos and keen humour are strangely blended.

Presently the deep, flexible voice, which had the soul of music in its
tones, re-echoed through the church as he called the people to worship
God, and read some verses of an old psalm. Familiar as the words were to
Grace, they seemed as he read them to have a new meaning, to be no
longer seven verses with queer, out-of-the-way expressions, that had
cost her trouble to learn as a Sunday evening's task, but a beautiful,
real prayer to a God that was listening, and would hear, as the "strange