During the first year or two of his present charge he had tasted what it was to be able to move people by his oratory; it was only the extra-ordinary craze for amusements that had spoilt it all. It was then he began to long for a wider sphere, and though the parish in which was the church that had been offered to him was in a poor part of London, the congregation consisted of many who had been drawn there by the preaching of the former Vicar. The Trustees were most anxious to secure a good preacher to succeed him. One of them had visited St. Marks on purpose to judge of Luke's preaching, and was much struck by it. This was why the living had been offered to him notwithstanding the fact that he was somewhat young for such an important post. All this was mentioned in the letter that Luke held in his hand, and the fact that he had to decline it filled him with the keenest disappointment. So keen was it that he decided not to tell Rachel that night about either letter. He would wait to answer them till the next day. It was never a good thing to do anything in a hurry. Luke's silence at supper did not surprise her. She knew that it was a sign that he had some problem to solve. The problem of course, this evening, she knew must be what to do about her. Once or twice she tried to make him smile as she recounted some event of the day; but she was so unsuccessful that she felt it was better to leave him to his thoughts. She was trying herself to unravel the difficulty that had arisen, but so impossible did she find it that she came to the conclusion that the only thing was to leave it in Higher Hands. God had always provided for them and would do so still. Was He not a very present help in time of trouble? Luke sat up late that night. He was standing before the Bar of his own conscience. He had to face the fact that he was feeling rebellious; struggling against the Will of God. To bury his talents in a village was a repugnant thought to him. How could he endure the quiet and dullness of it? Would it not tend to make him indolent in work? What would be the good of reading all the new thought of the day in order to help those who were troubled by it, if there was no-one who had even heard of the false teaching. How could he spend his time in preparing sermons suitable to men and women whose brains had never been taught to work. He pictured himself preaching to a congregation, the half of which were asleep and the other half on the verge of going to sleep. Then he suddenly remembered how his Lord had spent time over the soul of one poor woman, the Lord of whom it was said, "Never man spake like this man." Had He not taught again and again, both by his words and actions, the value of one individual soul?