world! But which is better, to be rejected of men to-day or of God in the days to come?--to endure a little scorn and contumely now, in a life which can only last at the best for a few years, or to be shut out from God’s love for ever? Think, my dearest friends, of what His love _for ever_ means! For ever and for ever and for ever!--without sorrow, or sickness, or sin--wrapped in the arms of His boundless mercy and protection for all time, and then compare it with the paltry gain of keeping the good opinion of your neighbour here below--one, who probably (if the truth were known) has sinned in like proportion with yourself! If I could only make you realise what God’s love is like, you would, in order to gain it, throw all earthly consideration to the winds and think of Him and of Him only! He loves you as no mortal man can ever love you, and He hates a liar. He has said He will have none of them--that if men will not confess their sins before the world, He will not number them with His elect in heaven; and this confessing includes--’ But here Hugh Owen’s discourse was interrupted by a shrill scream, as Nell Llewellyn fell back in her mother’s arms in a fit of violent hysterics. Of course everyone present (who had been longing for the address to be concluded, that they might renew their acquaintance with her) rushed forward simultaneously to offer their advice, or assistance. But Nell shrunk from them all alike, as she tried to quell the distressing cries that rose involuntarily from her, in her mother’s bosom. ‘Just stand aside a bit and let the poor lass have air,’ said Mrs Llewellyn. ‘She’s so weak and faint after that nasty London, that the walk’s been too much for her. I was afraid it might be, but she was so bent on hearing Hugh Owen preach! There! Nell--there, my lass! try and control yourself, do! Lean on me, and we’ll go slowly home again. I’m main sorry we’ve interrupted your discourse, Hugh, but I hope you’ll go on now all the same! And you must forgive poor Nell! It’s all because she’s so weak and upset like.’ ‘I’m sorry she came this evening,’ replied Hugh, who was the picture of distress, ‘but let me take her, Mrs Llewellyn, I am stronger than you are and Nell can lean as hard as she likes, on me!’ But Nell turned her head away, and at this juncture, one of the neighbours, who lived close by, returned with a little chaise drawn by a ragged pony, which he had been to fetch, and putting Nell and her mother in it, he drove them home; and Mrs Llewellyn’s whole care was then directed to getting her daughter into bed, where she trusted she would sleep and recuperate her exhausted strength. But creeping up an hour afterwards to see how she was going on, she found her so ill that she sent for the village doctor, who pronounced her to be in a very critical condition, and before another twelve hours were over her head, Nell was raving in the delirium of a nervous fever. CHAPTER X.