It was a momentous interview. The old man’s beard had whitened and was beginning to slope from the horizontal to the perpendicular: voice and hand were tremulous; but his eyes, whether he saw well or ill with them, retained their keen look: and Jonathan still felt, in a lesser degree, as he did with Davidina, that he was being examined as to his character. For in spite of submissive hours in the past, he suspected that as yet Uncle Phineas had never quite trusted him; that there was something missing which all his art and solicitude could not supply. Indeed it was so; temperamentally Mr. Trimblerigg was not cut to the pattern of True Belief; whereas, for Uncle Phineas to be outside True Belief, was to be spiritually in chaos; and the small ugly chapel which he had built for his own ministry of the Word was to him a veritable city of light. And now he knew that he was leaving it. ‘I’m glad you’ve come, Jonathan,’ he said. ‘We haven’t got a preacher, only one that comes once a month; it’s only praying and reading most Sabbath days now; and there’s some that aren’t faithful. Are you willing to take the work now you’re home again?’ Mr. Trimblerigg said that he would. ‘I wonder,’ said the old man, fixing him with his gaze, ‘whether you’ll be contented to stay here after I’m gone?’ ‘I shall do what the Lord tells me,’ said Jonathan. ‘Let’s ask Him now,’ said Uncle Phineas. ‘Bring me the Book.’ There was no reason why Mr. Trimblerigg should refuse; but it was a curious experience to see that the Book opened where a marker had been placed in it; to see the old man pass his hand over to the left, measure his finger up the page and lay it on an exact spot. Nor did he wonder then, when the text was read, that his future had been fixed for him in terms that he could not dispute. ‘And Laban said unto him, I pray thee if I have found favour in thine eyes, _tarry_; for I have learned by experience that the Lord hath blessed me for thy sake. And he said, “Appoint me thy wages, and I will give it”.’ After Heaven had thus spoken there was a pause; then Phineas said, ‘The word “Tarry” is in italics, Jonathan. That seems to point, doesn’t it? Have you any doubt left in you now, about what God means you to do?’ ‘No, Uncle,’ replied Mr. Trimblerigg, ‘I have none.’ The text, in fact, had not altered by a hair’s breadth his views of the career he was to run. ‘“Appoint me thy wages and I will give it,”’ went on the old man. ‘That comes in too. But it isn’t wages exactly, is it, Jonathan? Though you may call it so for want of a better word. You know that I’ve made two wills, don’t you, Jonathan?’ Yes: Jonathan had heard it.