The Christian | Page 2

at the next
glance a coquettish expression, and ever after a sense of tremendous
power and passion. But her most noticeable feature was her mouth,
which was somewhat too large for beauty, and was always moving
nervously. When she spoke, her voice startled you with its depth, which
was a kind of soft hoarseness, but capable of every shade of colour.
There was a playful and impetuous raillery in nearly all she said, and
everything seemed to be expressed by mind and body at the same time.
She moved her body restlessly, and while standing in the same place
her feet were always shuffling. Her dress was homely--almost
poor--and perhaps a little careless. She appeared to smile and laugh
continually, and yet there were tears in her eyes sometimes.
The young clergyman was of a good average height, but he looked
taller from a certain distinction of figure. When he raised his hat at the

captain's greeting he showed a forehead like an arched wall, and a large,
close-cropped head. He had a well-formed nose, a powerful chin, and
full lips--all very strong and set for one so young. His complexion was
dark--almost swarthy--and there was a certain look of the gipsy in his
big golden-brown eyes with their long black lashes. He was clean
shaven, and the lower part of his face seemed heavy under the splendid
fire of the eyes above it. His manner had a sort of diffident restraint; he
stood on the same spot without moving, and almost without raising his
drooping head; his speech was grave and usually slow and laboured;
his voice was bold and full.
The second bell had rung, and the old parson was making ready to go
ashore.
"You'll take care of this runaway, Mr. Storm, and deliver her safely at
the door of the hospital?"
"I will."
"And you'll keep an eye on her in that big Babylon over there?"
"If she'll let me, sir."
"Yes, indeed, yes; I know she's as unstable as water and as hard to hold
as a puff of wind."
The girl was laughing again. "You might as well call me a tempest and
have done with it, or," with a glance at the younger man, "say a
storm--Glory St---- Oh!"
With a little catch of the breath she arrested the name before it was
uttered by her impetuous tongue, and laughed again to cover her
confusion. The young man smiled faintly and rather painfully, but the
old parson was conscious of nothing.
"Well, and why not? A good name for you too, and you richly deserve
it.--But the Lord is lenient with such natures, John. He never tries them
beyond their strength. She hasn't much leaning to religion, you know."

The girl recalled herself from the busy scene around and broke in again
with a tone of humour and pathos mixed.
"There, call me an infidel at once, grandfather. I know what you mean.
But just to show you that I haven't exactly registered a vow in heaven
never to go to church in London because you've given me such a dose
of it in the Isle of Man, I'll promise to send you a full and particular
report of Mr. Storm's first sermon. Isn't that charming of me?"
The third bell was ringing, the blast of the steam whistle was echoing
across the bay, and the steamer was only waiting for the mails. Taking
a step nearer to the gangway, the old parson talked faster.
"Did Aunt Anna give you money enough, child?"
"Enough for my boat fare and my train."
"No more! Now Anna is so----"
"Don't trouble, grandfather. Woman wants but little here below--Aunt
Anna excepted. And then a hospital nurse----"
"I'm afraid you'll feel lonely in that great wilderness."
"Lonely with five millions of neighbours?"
"You'll be longing for the old island, Glory, and I half repent me
already----"
"If ever I have the blue-devils, grandpa, I'll just whip on my cape and
fly home again."
"To-morrow morning I'll be searching all over the house for my
runaway."
Glory tried to laugh gaily. "Upstairs, downstairs, and in my lady's
chamber."
"'Glory,' I'll be crying, 'Where's the girl gone at all? I haven't heard her

voice in the house to-day. What's come over the old place to strike it so
dead?'"
The girl's eyes were running over, but in a tone of gentle raillery and
heart's love she said severely: "Nonsense, grandfather, you'll forget all
about Glory going to London before the day after to-morrow. Every
morning you'll be making rubbings of your old runes, and every night
you'll be playing chess with Aunt Rachel, and every Sunday you'll be
scolding old Neilus for falling asleep in the reading desk, and--and
everything will go on just the same as ever."
The mails had come