To
Grace's childish mind they had been the embodiment of angels ever since
she could remember; and even long after childish things were put away
there remained a strange link between her conception of angelic beings
and those burnished cherubs whose serene, shining faces looked down
benignantly over the drowsy congregation on dark winter afternoons.
But all these imaginings certainly came under the catalogue of
"wandering thoughts," from which the old minister always prayed at the
opening of the service that they might be delivered. So it is to be
feared that the sermon had not even the chance of the wayside seed in
the parable of sinking into the children's hearts. The words of her
aunt's old minister had as yet proved little more than an outside sound
to Grace, though she was in the habit of listening more observantly than
her brother. But there came a day when, amidst those familiar
surroundings, with the molten cherubs looking serenely down on her, she
heard words which made her heart burn within her, and kindled a flame
which lasted as long as life.
It was on a Sunday afternoon in November, not long after Walter left.
Miss Hume was ailing, and unable to go to church, so it was arranged
that Margery should accompany Grace. The old nurse attended the same
church, and Grace had been in the habit of going under her wing when her
aunt was obliged to remain at home. The walk to church through the
crowded streets was a pleasant change, and Grace was in high spirits
when she ensconced herself at the top of Margery's seat--which was a
much better observatory than her aunt's pew--where every thing could be
seen that was interesting and amusing within the four walls.
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