His only reply was a look of perplexed inquiry, but his gray eyes were so kind, and yet withal so full of dejection, that she again thought, "He is dreadfully inconsistent with his doctrines"; and she said, with a trace of archness in her tone, "I think you look as if you needed a little help and comfort yourself." He turned away his face, but after a moment said, "You never spoke truer words, Miss Marsden." Then Lottie, who before had felt in such need of cheer herself, forgot this need in her wish to help the great desponding man before her, whose mingled weakness and strength surprised her more and more. In a tone that would have softened flint she said, "I wish I were good enough to help you." Then he perplexed her by saying, with sudden energy, "And I wish you were bad enough." "What do you mean by that?" "Pardon me," he said hastily. "My words were figurative, and exaggerated by deep feeling. I meant that I wished you, or some one, could be human and charitable enough to understand me, and help me to triumph over my weakness without condemning too severely." "Well," said Lottie, with a little sigh of satisfaction, "I think I'm bad enough. I'm very human, anyway, and I think I'm in a mood to be charitable to-day; for, if my conscience tells me the truth, I'm awfully in need of charity myself." He looked up quickly and hopefully as he said, "Then my sermon did you some good after all." "Not a bit of it. I can have plenty of charity for you, but hot a particle for your sermon,--no more than I would for a thumb-screw of the Inquisition." This unmeasured condemnation of the pet child of his brain,--a part of himself as it were,--of which he had been so proud, cut to the quick, and he flushed deeply and almost resentfully at first. But he made no reply, and sat lowering at the smoky hearth while he sank into a lower depth of despondency. Preaching was his chosen life-work, and yet this was the verdict against his first great sermon. Lottie looked hopelessly at him, not knowing what to say or do next, and regretting that she had spoken so hastily and harshly. At last he sighed: "I don't understand it. I had spent months over that sermon. I fear I have mistaken my calling." "Well," said Lottie, rather brusquely, "I wouldn't feel so forlorn and miserable over that. I don't think it's much of a calling anyway." "O Miss Marsden!" he ejaculated, in a shocked tone.