To do him justice that was all he had meant. Once the revival was fairly started the monetary question could be allowed to crop up, but without money in the background to make it possible to pose as having no regard to money, how could the very committees which would work the business properly be called into existence? At the time he had thought of nothing but God's service, and even now he felt little remorse. His sense of conversion was too strong, and the whole month of incessant irritation of every possible religious emotion had left him a pulp so far as actual facts were concerned ... and as a rule the village accounts went on and on endlessly ... He lifted up his hand and smote the table impotently. Great heavens! what was to be done? That hundred pounds must be replaced somehow. As he thought of how it had been spent, he felt vaguely uncomfortable over an item which had gone to pay a small bill of his own, contracted in amusing Myfanwy Jones at Blackborough. He felt ashamed of that, but he had no shame for other things in the further past. A curious fanatical exultation filled him as he thought how marvellous were God's ways, and how men and women, sinners utterly, might stand in all innocence together and proclaim infinite mercy. Inscrutable mystery! Almost incredible secret tie of forgiven sin, which made the voices thrill and blend. And this must end unless there was money. They had but a few hours, and even Hwfa Morgan was not there to help with advice. He would not return till morning, so there was only poor, dreamy Morris, absorbed in the personal issues. There was but one issue! That there should be no setback to the overwhelming success of the revival. For it had been successful beyond measure, in works as well as words. In Dinas itself, the cotoneaster-covered inn might have put up its shutters for all the liquor sold at the once-frequented bar. There was no swearing or quarrelling from one end of the parish to the other. Even the snaring of their neighbours' rabbits for Sunday dinner, ultimate crime of a Welsh quarryman, had ceased. And these were but the outward and visible signs of a great inward and spiritual grace. A sense of perfect personal peace had fallen upon the mass of men. There were no more anxieties, no more fears. Heaven and its golden harps were within the reach of all, and, looking forward, each personality could see itself surviving death and going on unchanged for ever and ever and aye. So the Grave had lost its Victory. Each trivial soul was safe. The result in pure morality, not only in Dinas but throughout the whole countryside, was unquestionable. Even those who disapproved of such emotional excitement, or who, like the rector, viewed with disfavour all outpourings of grace except through the appointed channels, could not deny this, and were driven to darkling hints as to the staying power of such religious feeling.