But something in his eyes caused Marian’s glances to fall, and the rosy clouds to roll up over her cheeks and brow.

Then Thurston governed his countenance—­let no ardent or admiring glance escape, and when he spoke again his manner and words were more deferential.

“We spoke of the world of nature, Miss Mayfield; but how is it with the world of man?  To many—­nay, to most of the human race—­autumn is the herald of a season not of festivity and repose, but of continued labor, and increased want and privation and suffering.”

“That is because society is not in harmony with nature; man has wandered as far from nature as from God,” said Marian.

“And as much needs a Saviour to lead him back to the one as to the other,” replied Thurston.

“You know that—­you feel it?” asked Marian, turning upon him one of her soul-thrilling glances.

Thurston trembled with delicious pleasure through all his frame; but, guarding his eyes, lest again they should frighten off her inspiring glances, he answered, fervently: 

“I know and feel it most profoundly.”

And Thurston thought he spoke the very truth, though in sober fact he had never thought or felt anything about the subject until now that Marian, his inspirer, poured her life-giving spirit into his soul.

She spoke again, earnestly, ardently.

“You know and feel it most profoundly!  That deep knowledge and that deep feeling is the chrism oil that has anointed you a messenger and a laborer in the cause of humanity.  ‘Called and chosen,’ be thou also faithful.  There are many inspired, many anointed; but few are faithful!”

“Thou, then, art the high priestess that hast poured the consecrated oil on my head.  I will be faithful!”

He spoke with such sudden enthusiasm, such abandon, that it had the effect of bringing Marian back to the moderation and retenue of her usual manner.  He saw it in the changed expression of her countenance; and what light or shade of feeling passed over that beautiful face unmarked of him?  When he spoke again it was composedly.

“You speak as the preachers and teachers preach and teach—­in general terms.  Be explicit; what would you have me to do, Miss Mayfield?  Only indicate my work, and tell me how to set about the accomplishment of it, and never knight served liege lady as I will serve you!”

Marian smiled.

“How?  Oh, you must make yourself a position from which to influence people!  I do not know that I can advise you how; but you will find a way, as—­were I a man, I should!”

“Being a woman, you have done wonders!”

“For a woman,” said Marian, with a glance full of archness and merriment.

“No, no; for any one, man or woman!  But your method, Marian?  I beg your pardon, Miss Mayfield,” he added, with a blush of ingenuous embarrassment.

“Nay, now,” said the frank girl; “do call me Marian if that name springs more readily from your lips than the other.  Almost all persons call me Marian, and I like it.”