Unusually eloquent and verbose was the sermon that day, for not only was the preacher aware that bright eyes looked upon his deeds, but he saw his enemies in the front of the battle. Surely all extemporaneous speakers, in court, pulpit, or senate, must be accessible to such external influences. It ought not to be so, of course, but I fancy it _is_. Would John Knox have been so fiery in denunciation if those wicked maids of honor had not derided him? I doubt if a discourse delivered in a Union would ever soar to sublimity, even if the excellent paupers could be supposed to understand it. So, with every sentence more plaintive grew Mr. Fullarton's lamentations over worldlings and their vanities, more bitter his invectives against those who, having themselves broken out of the fold, seek to lead others astray. An occasional gesture--something too expressive--was not needed to point his animadversions. The object of them sat with his head slightly bent, neither by frown nor smile betraying that a single allusion had gone home. The simple truth was, that he scarcely caught one word. The last cadence of sweeter tones was still lingering in his ears, and had locked them fast against all other sounds. The energetic divine might have poured out upon his guilty head yet stormier vials, and he would never have heard one roll of the thunder. However, the dearest friends must part, and all orations must come to an end, except those of the much-desiderated Chisholm Anstey, of whom an old-world parliament was not worthy; so, after "a burst of forty-five minutes without a check," the chaplain dismissed his beloved hearers to their digestion. The stream, as it flowed out, divided, and broke up into small pools of conversation. Miss Tresilyan and her chaperone joined the Molyneux party, just as Fanny was saying to Keene that "she hoped he would profit by much in the sermon that was evidently meant for him." "_Was_ he personal?" the latter asked, so indifferently; "I didn't notice it. Well, I suppose it amuses him, and it certainly does not hurt me." (Mrs. Danvers sniffed indignantly--a form of protest to which her nose, from its construction, was eminently adapted; but he went on before she could speak) "Miss Tresilyan, will you allow perhaps the unworthiest member of the congregation to express an opinion that the singing went off superbly?" Her beautiful eyes glittered somewhat disdainfully. "Thank you, you are very good. But I think you have hardly a right to be critical. I should like to have some one's opinion who is _really_ interested in the chapel. It was scarcely worth taking so much trouble to appear so the other day. You know what Liston said about the penny? 'It is not the value of the thing, but one hates to be imposed upon.' Delusions are not so agreeable as illusions, Major Keene."