"I am!" Mercy tried hard to understand him, and tried in vain.

Could this be the preacher whose words had charmed, purified, ennobled her?
Was this the man whose sermon had drawn tears from women about her whom she knew to be shameless and hardened in crime?
Yes! The eyes that now rested on her humorously were the beautiful eyes which had once looked into her soul.
The voice that had just addressed a jesting question to her was the deep and mellow voice which had once thrilled her to the heart.

In the pulpit he was an angel of mercy; out of the pulpit he was a boy let loose from school.
"Don't let me startle you," he said, good-naturedly, noticing her confusion.

"Public opinion has called me by harder names than the name of 'Radical.' I have been spending my time lately--as I told you just now--in an agricultural district.

My business there was to perform the duty for the rector of the place, who wanted a holiday.