He motioned again and with a roar they were on their feet.
Again there was a silence.

He stood now, perfectly still, His hands laid together on the rail, and His face looking steadily before Him; it seemed as if He who had drawn all eyes and stilled all sounds were waiting until His domination were complete, and there was but one will, one desire, and that beneath His hand.

Then He began to speak....
* * * * * In this again, as Mabel perceived afterwards, there was no precise or verbal record within her of what he said; there was no conscious process by which she received, tested, or approved what she heard.

The nearest image under which she could afterwards describe her emotions to herself, was that when He spoke it was she who was speaking.

Her own thoughts, her predispositions, her griefs, her disappointment, her passion, her hopes--all these interior acts of the soul known scarcely even to herself, down even, it seemed, to the minutest whorls and eddies of thought, were, by this man, lifted up, cleansed, kindled, satisfied and proclaimed.