The inquirer's countenance evidently brightened. "I conclude, Sir, that you are a stranger in these parts," he rejoined. "I think I saw you here last Sunday--I scarcely know whether you will not think me very bold, when I ask you whether you would be so very obliging as to assist me in the service this afternoon? A friend whom I expected has failed me at the last moment; and you will hear, by my voice, that if I am able to get through a ten minutes' sermon, it will be as much as I can manage." Eustace Trevor thought so indeed--but the sudden demand upon his services almost bewildered him, and for a moment he was silent. The clergyman looked a little surprised at the apparent hesitation, a perception of which recalled Eustace to recollection. What right had he to refuse--what excuse could he offer? He looked upon the evidently suffering man, and said he should be happy to lend him the assistance he required. The clergyman thanked him warmly, and they walked together to the vestry. Eustace Trevor, with strange feelings, found himself thus called to enter upon the duties of the profession, it had become almost like a dream to him ever to have embraced. CHAPTER XXII. This man Is of no common order, as his front And presence here denote. BYRON. "Oh Lord correct me, but with judgment; not in thine anger, lest thou bring me to nothing." Not an eye perhaps amongst that little congregation that was not lifted up, when, in thrilling strains, like the rich deep notes of an organ, the stranger's voice swept through the low arches of the simple temple, in that opening sentence of the service. Not one amongst them, the most simple and illiterate, who did not hold their breath as he proceeded, lest they should lose one note of a voice "Most musical, most melancholy," which gave such new magic to each familiar word of prayer, or praise, or exhortation he offered up. "Who could that be? who read the prayers, Mary?" said Selina Seaham to her sister, when they left the church. "It is the same stranger who sat in our pew last Sunday." "What a beautiful voice!" was the answer. "Most beautiful; but more than that, Mary, I never saw a more striking looking person." "I did not look at him," was the quiet reply; "I only _felt_ that the prayers and lessons were read as _we_ seldom hear them." "Poor Mr. Wynne! it was painful to listen to him afterwards. It is really cruel that he cannot get a more regular assistant: Sir Hugh should really manage it for him. Mary, do use your influence over the worthy Baronet when he returns," the sister added slyly. Mary blushed, and shook her head. She had a short time ago yielded up all claims upon the influence she might so largely have possessed; but ere the following Sunday came round, the wishes of the young ladies, in this respect, had been satisfied beyond their most sanguine expectations. * * * * *