one,—but three words,—the three words Joan had read beneath the picture of the dead Christ: "It is finished!"
If it was chance that led him to them to-day, it was a strange and fortunate chance, and surely he had never preached as he preached then.
After the service, Anice looked for Joan in vain; she had gone before the rest of the congregation.
But in the evening, being out in the garden near the holly hedge, she heard her name spoken, and glancing over the leafy barrier, saw Joan standing on the side path, just as she had seen her the first time they had spoken to each other.
"I ha' na a minnit to stay," she said without any prelude, "but I ha' summat to say to yo'."
Her manner was quiet, and her face wore a softened pallor. Even her physical power for a time appeared subdued. And yet she looked steady and resolved.
"I wur at church this mornin'," she began again almost immediately.
"I saw you," Anice answered.
"I wur nivver theer before. I went to see fur mysen. I ha' read the book yo' gi' me, an' theer's things in it as I nivver heerd on. Mester Grace too,—he coom to see me an' I axt him questions. Theer wur things as I wanted to know, an' now it seems loike it looks clearer. What wi' th' pictur',—it begun wi' th' pictnr',—an' th' book, an' what he said to-day i' church, I've made up my moind."
She paused an instant, her lips trembled.
"I dunnot want to say much about it now," she said. "I ha' not getten th' words. But I thowt as yo'd loike to know. I believe i' th' Book; I believe i' th' Cross; I believe i' Him as deed on it! That's what I coom to say."
