But since that original experience of fire which gave it birth, there had come to its elaboration a strange artistic instinct.

Day after day the preacher had repeated it to hushed congregations, and with every repetition, almost, there had come a greater sharpening of the light and shade, a keener sense of what would tell and move.

He had given it on the moors that afternoon, but he gave it better to-night, for on the wild walk across the plateau of the Peak some fresh illustrations, drawn from its black and fissured solitude, had suggested themselves, and he worked them out as he went, with a kind of joy, watching their effect.

Yet the man was, in his way, a saint, and altogether sincere--so subtle a thing is the life of the spirit.
In the middle, Tom Mullins, David's apprentice-friend, suddenly broke out into loud groans, rocking himself to and fro on the form.
A little later, a small fair-haired boy of twelve sprang up from the form where he had been sitting trembling, and rushed into the space between the benches and the preacher, quite unconscious of what he was doing.
'Sir!' he said; 'oh, sir!--please--I didn't want to say them bad words this mornin; I didn't, sir; it wor t' big uns made me; they said they'd duck me--an it do hurt that bad.

Oh, sir, please!' And the little fellow stood wringing his hands, the tears coursing down his cheeks.
The minister stopped, frowning, and looked at him.