he was in a sociable, frank, and refined atmosphere, and he thought within himself: "What a place of brightness and pleasant endeavour this would be after my rude and stormy experience of the north and this terrible year in London! And, oh, what a haven of rest and health for my darling wife and boy!"
"He delivered himself with effect."
So it was with unaffected joy, when he walked round the large garden with his host after dinner, that he heard him say:—
"I think, Mr. Murray, absolute frankness in these matters is best. Let me ask you, if you were invited to become our minister, would you be willing? Would you like to come to us?"
"As frankly as you put the question," said Mr. Murray, "I answer that, from all I know and have seen of the Upton congregation, I should like to be your minister. Of course, it would be pleasanter for me and for all if the invitation were as nearly unanimous as may be."
"Quite so," said his host. "I ought to say that, though I am the chairman, I have at present no authority to speak for any but myself and my family. But we have heard a good report of you, Mr. Murray, and I know that many of our people have been much impressed by you this morning." Then, unconsciously, he went on to dash somewhat the minister's lively hopes. "There is a young man—Mr. Lloyd: you may know him. No? Well some of our people are very much taken with him. He is a brilliant, popular sort of young fellow; but he is young—he has only been some two years or so a minister—and he is unmarried, and and well, I don't want to say anything against him—but he is just a little flighty, and we older folk doubt how we should get on with him. I am glad, however, to have your assurance that you would come if you were asked."
He put his arm within the minister's, and thus they returned into the house. And—as if that had been a sign of consent agreed upon—all the company (and there were now a good many guests assembled) beamed upon them as they entered the drawing-room.
"I am so glad," said the eldest daughter of the house, bringing Mr. Murray a cup of tea and sitting down by him, "to know that you are willing to be our minister!"
"How do you know I am?" he asked, with a smile.
"Oh," she answered with a blush and a light laugh, "we arranged for a sign from my father, so that we should all know at once. You are willing, are you not?"
"I am," he answered, "quite."
"And I hope—I do hope—you will be asked."
Presently there came to him an unknown young man, and said: "I don't often go to chapel or church, but if you often preach sermons like this morning's, I should always go to hear you, I think."
That was a flattering tribute, and the minister showed his appreciation of it.
"Well, I confess," he said, "it is at least pleasant to hear you say so."
Thus the time passed till the hour came for evening service. The gas was lit, and floor and galleries were crowded with people. The minister had chosen a simple and pathetic theme for his evening discourse: "He took little children in His arms and blessed them;" and he spoke out of the fulness of experience and with the tender feeling of the father of a sick child, insomuch that all were moved, many even to sobs and tears. There was no doubt that he carried his audience with him; and, as in
