I said I knew by his countenance that he had heard all. I never saw such an expression as his face wore,--such burning indignation, such withering scorn. I trembled to think of the central fires from which such flames darted. As he caught my glance, an instantaneous change came over it. Compassion softened every lineament. Still his eye of power held me down. It said, "be quiet, be calm,--I am near, be not afraid." "I wish I could get you a glass of water," said he, in a low voice, for I suppose I looked deadly pale; "but it would be impossible I fear in this crowd,--the aisles are impenetrable." "Thank you," I answered, "there is no need,--but if I could only leave." I looked despairingly at the masses of living beings on every side, crowding the pews, filling the aisles, standing on the window-sills, on the tops of the pews, leaning from the gallery,--and felt that I was a prisoner. The sultry air of August, confined in the chapel walls, and deprived of its vital principle by so many heaving lungs, weighed oppressively on mine. I could feel behind me the breathing of the lips of slander, and it literally seemed to scorch me. Ernest took my fan from my hand and fanned me without intermission, or I think I must have fainted. As I sat with downcast eyes, whose drooping lashes were heavy with unshed tears, I saw a glass of water held before me by an unsteady hand. I looked up and saw Richard Clyde, his student's robe of flowing black silk gathered up by his left arm, who had literally forced his way through a triple row of men. We were very near the platform, there being but one row of pews between. I drank the water eagerly, gratefully. Even before those blistering words were uttered, I had felt as if a glass of cold water would be worth all the gems of the East; now it was life itself. "Are you ill, Gabriella?" whispered Mrs. Linwood, who with Edith sat directly in front, and whose eyes had watched anxiously the motions of Richard. "Ah! I see this heat is killing you." "_That is she_, I do believe," hissed the serpent tongue behind me. "Hush, she may hear you." All was again still around me, the stillness of the multitudinous sea, for every wave of life heaved restlessly, producing a kind of murmur, like that of rustling leaves in an autumnal forest. Then a sound loud as the thunders of the roaring ocean came rushing on the air. It was the burst of acclamation which greeted Richard Clyde, first in honor though last in time. I bent my ear to listen, but the words blent confusedly together, forming one wave of utterance, that rolled on without leaving one idea behind. I knew he was eloquent, from the enthusiastic applause which occasionally interrupted him, but I had lost the power of perception; and had Demosthenes risen from his grave, it would scarcely have excited in me any emotion.