Anstice listened spellbound. She said to herself: "I have never really known Him at all. I have always been far off from Him." And she came out of church with an ache in her heart. She was standing a little way from the church, on a rising hillock overlooking the lake, when a voice behind her made her turn. "Good evening, Mrs. Holme." It was the Rector. She did not know in her present frame of mind whether she was glad or sorry to see him. "I am coming your way," he said. "I want to see a sick parishioner in Butterdale—" They talked of various things, and then Anstice said impulsively: "You have made me very unhappy this evening." "How? My mission is to make people happy, if I do my work rightly." "You have shown me what I have suspected, that I am far away. I don't think I have ever been really near." "No? But that can very soon be remedied." "It is my turn to ask 'How?'" said Anstice wistfully. "Did I not make it clear?" "Yes, in a way you did. But belief and faith have been with me from a child. I believe everything." "Men can believe in a general, a leader; but they never get near him until they come to him and give themselves up to him as his fighters and followers. Perhaps you may never have enlisted—dedicated yourself, shall I say, to His Service? In Baptism and Confirmation you have had the opportunity, but I have known many pass through those times, and still be very far away." A flash of enlightenment came to Anstice. "I don't believe I have ever done that," she said. "It was what the young ruler lacked," said Mr. Bolland. "His life was outwardly blameless, but he could not bring himself to cast in his lot with the Master and follow Him to the death." Mr. Bolland said little more. He was a man of few words out of the pulpit, and Anstice wanted no more from him. When their ways parted, she walked on by herself, and when she came to her gate she turned down across the park towards the lake. Here she sat down on a low seat by the boathouse and looked out across the shining water. With hands clasped loosely round her knees, her thoughts and resolves were wafted beyond the earth. Quite quietly, quite unemotionally, she gave herself then and there to the One whom she wanted to know. And when, about half an hour later, she walked back to the house, there was a peace and joy in her heart that she had never experienced before. The stillness and sweetness of that Sunday evening were to remain with her for many a long day to come. CHAPTER VI A RAMBLE IN THE FELLS MONDAY dawned bright and fair. The picnic on the lake was a great success. Ruffie was made comfortable with cushions in the boat, and the little girls were allowed to take an oar together, whilst the old gardener Stephen took the other. They rowed across to a small island, and landed there for lunch. At six o'clock they came home; a rather tired but a very happy little party. Anstice had the art of making and keeping children so.