"I like him very much indeed; but do not like his sermon at all,"
answered Beulah bluntly.
"I am sure everybody seemed to be delighted with it," said Mrs.
Lockhart.
"Doubtless the majority of his congregation were; and I was very
much interested, though I do not accept his views. His delivery is
remarkably impressive, and his voice is better adapted to the pulpit
than any I have ever listened to." She strove to say everything
favorable which, in candor, she could.
"Still you did not like his sermon?" said Pauline gravely.
"I cannot accept his conclusions."
"I liked the discourse particularly, Pauline. I wish Percy could
have heard it," said Mrs. Lockhart.
The daughter took no notice whatever of this considerate speech, and
sat quite still, looking more serious than Beulah had ever seen her.
Conversation flagged, despite the young teacher's efforts, and she
was heartily glad when the carriage entered the avenue. Her heart
swelled as she caught sight of the noble old cedars, whose venerable
heads seemed to bow in welcome, while the drooping branches held out
their arms, as if to embrace her. Each tree was familiar; even the
bright coral yaupon clusters were like dear friends greeting her
after a long absence. She had never realized until now how much she
loved this home of her early childhood, and large drops dimmed her
eyes as she passed along the walks where she had so often wandered.
The carriage approached the house, and she saw her quondam guardian
standing before the door. He was bare-headed, and the sunshine fell
like a halo upon his brown, clustering hair, threading it with gold.
He held, in one hand, a small basket of grain, from which he fed a
flock of hungry pigeons. On every side they gathered about him--blue
and white, brown and mottled--some fluttering down from the roof of
the house; two or three, quite tame, perched on his arm, eating from
the basket; and one, of uncommon beauty, sat on his shoulder, cooing
softly. By his side stood Charon, looking gravely on, as if he, wise
soul, thought this familiarity signally impudent. It was a
singularly quiet, peaceful scene, which indelibly daguerreotyped
itself on Beulah's memory. As the carriage whirled round the circle,
and drew up at the door, the startled flock wheeled off; and,
brushing the grain from his hands, Dr. Hartwell advanced to assist
his sister. Pauline sprang out first, exclaiming: "You abominable heathen! Why didn't you come to church? Even Dr.
Asbury was out."
"Guy, you missed an admirable sermon," chimed in Mrs. Lockhart.