Time passes swiftly under such conditions, and the distance across the fields appeared as nothing. Quite before they expected it the spire of Darentdale Church became visible, and then Dallington turned from the path. “Let us go this way,” he said. “We do not want to get home just yet, do we?” Margaret hesitated. He asked, “Are you too tired to go farther?” “No; I am certainly not too tired,” she said. “But I have been away all day, and my grandfather may have wanted me. I must return soon.” “Very well; we will not go far. But tell me about yourself,” he said. “Do you know that I went to the chapel on my first Sunday evening at home, and saw you?” “Yes, I know.” “I wondered very much what made you do that thing? It could not have been pleasant; was it?” “Indeed, it was not.” Margaret was silent for a few minutes; and then she continued, in the low tones which she always used when she was deeply moved, “The fact is, that a change has come over me lately. I was always helped to form habits which were of the better sort, and I thought myself a very good Christian until a little while ago, when, after I had read a book opposed to Christianity, I began to really study the New Testament.” “And what did you find?” “I found Christ.” “Of course!” “No; it was not ‘of course’ at all. I had read it many times, and found a great deal about Him that was interesting and beautiful. But I had not found _Him_, which is quite a different thing. It is as if I had been in the dark, and a sudden flash had lighted up everything.” “I wish the flash would come to me! I am anxious to see that Sermon on the Mount put into living form.” “But it can never be while it is considered to be merely an exquisite literary production, to be praised and patronised. It has to be acknowledged as a code of laws absolutely binding on those who profess to be the disciples of Him who proclaimed it. But it is impossible for these laws to be entirely obeyed except by those who have found in Christ the Regenerator of themselves. Don’t you think so? I used to admire Him and venerate Him, and perhaps fear Him a little; but now it is all so different; I know Him, a living, reliable, present Friend and Companion. And I love Him because He first loved me.” Dallington looked into the beautiful eyes, alive with feeling, and said, “And He is really _real_ to you?” “Real to me?” she cried. “I am not more real to myself. And it is all so wonderful!” “And that ceremony in the chapel was the outcome of all this? And, I suppose, you mean to live up to it?” “I am certainly going to try.” “Margaret let us try together. I cannot let you go without telling you that which is my heart. Do you remember what the last words were which I said to you before I went away?” Margaret had grown pale, and was trembling. “You must not say them again,” she said.