“I am reproached, brother,” said Wesley. “Let us give thanks unto God. May He give us grace to think of all things as coming from Him--whether they take the form of a mist which obscures His purpose, or the darkness of a tempest on which He rides. I know myself wanting in faith at all times--in that faith without reserve which a child has in his father. I confess that for a moment in the morning I had the same thought as that which was expressed by the old man who joined us: I thought it possible that that fog which threatened to frustrate our walk had been sent by the Enemy. Should I have thought so if our work had been hindered in very truth? I dare not say no to that question. But now I know that it helped rather than obstructed, us.” “There can be no doubt about that,” said Hartwell. “For myself, I say that I was never so deeply impressed in my life as at that moment when I found myself looking at you; you were speaking of the world awakening, and it seemed to me that I had been asleep--listening to the sound of your voice--the voice of a dream, and then I was full awake, I knew not how. I tell you, Mr. Wesley, I was not conscious of the change that was taking place--from darkness to light.” “Nor was I,” said Wesley. “My eyes were closed fast while I was preaching. I had closed them to shut out that incongruous picture of obscurity, while I thought of the picture of the breaking of light; when I opened my eyes the picture that I had been striving to paint was before me. It was the Lord's doing.” While they remained resting on the cliff the officer of the Preventive men came upon them. He knew Hartwell, and had, when Wesley had been in the neighbourhood before, thanked him for the good influence his preaching had in checking the smuggling. He now greeted them cordially and enquired if they had come from the village, adding that he hoped the fishing boats had not suffered from the effects of the tide. “We left the port early in the morning, and in the face of the mist. What is the matter with the tide?” said Hartwell. “You have not been on the beach? Why, 'tis a marvel, gentlemen,” cried the officer. “The like has not been seen since I took up my appointment in this neighbourhood--a tide so high that the caves are flooded to the roof. List, sirs; you can hear naught of the usual boom of the waters when the pressed air forces them back.” They listened, but although there was the usual noise of the waves breaking along the coast, the boom from the caves which had been heard at intervals through the mist was now silent. “As a rule 'tis at high tide that the sound is loudest,” said Hartwell.