I'm ashamed,he said,ashamed of the behavior of some of us in the Lord's house.This has been a failure,this service of ours.We have kept still when we should have justified our faith,and allowed the presence of a stranger to interfere with our duty to the Almighty.And I will say,he added,his voice rising and trembling with indignation,to him who came here uninvited and broke up this meetin',that it would be well for him to remember the words of Scriptur','Woe unto ye,false prophets and workers of iniquity.'Let him remember what the Divine wisdom put into my head to read to-night:'The pastors have become brutish and have not sought the Lord;therefore they shall not prosper.'Amen!Amen!Amen!So be it!The cries came from all parts of the little room.They ceased abruptly,for John Ellery was on his feet.
Captain Hammond,he said,I realize that I have no right to speak in this building,but I must say one word.My coming here to-night may have been a mistake;I'm inclined to think it was.But I came not,as you seem to infer,to sneer or to scoff;certainly I had no wish to disturb your service.I came because Ihad heard repeatedly,since my arrival in this town,of this society and its meetings.I had heard,too,that there seemed to be a feeling of antagonism,almost hatred,against me among you here.I couldn't see why.Most of you have,I believe,been at one time members of the church where I preach.I wished to find out for myself how much of truth there was in the stories I had heard and to see if a better feeling between the two societies might not be brought about.Those were my reasons for coming here to-night.As for my being a false prophet and a worker of iniquity--he smiled--well,there is another verse of Scripture Iwould call to your attention:'Judge not,that ye be not judged.'He sat down.There was silence for a moment and then a buzz of whispering.Captain Eben,who had heard him with a face of iron hardness,rapped the table.
We will sing in closin',he said,the forty-second hymn.After which the benediction will be pronounced.The Regular minister left the Come-Outers'meeting with the unpleasant conviction that he had blundered badly.His visit,instead of tending toward better understanding and more cordial relationship,had been regarded as an intrusion.He had been provoked into a public justification,and now he was quite sure that he would have been more politic to remain silent.He realized that the evening's performance would cause a sensation and be talked about all over town.The Come-Outers would glory in their leader's denunciation of him,and his own people would perhaps feel that it served him right.If he had only told Mrs.Coffin of what he intended to do.Yet he had not told her because he meant to do it anyhow.Altogether it was a rather humiliating business.
So that old bigot was the Van Horne girl's uncle.It hardly seemed possible that she,who appeared so refined and ladylike when he met her at the parsonage,should be a member of that curious company.When he rose to speak he had seen her in the front row,beside the thin,middle-aged female who had entered the chapel with Captain Hammond and with her.She was looking at him intently.
The lamp over the speaker's table had shone full on her face and the picture remained in his memory.He saw her eyes and the wavy shadows of her hair on her forehead.
He stepped off the platform,across the road,out of the way of homeward-bound Come-Outers,and stood there,thinking.The fog was as heavy and wet as ever;in fact,it was almost a rain.The wind was blowing hard from the northwest.The congregation dispersed in chattering groups,their lanterns dipping and swinging like fireflies.The chatter dealt entirely with one subject--himself.
He heard his name mentioned at least twenty times.Out of the gusty,dripping blackness came Mr.Badger's voice.
By time!crowed Josiah,he was took down a few p-p-pup-pegs,wa'n't he!My!how Eben did g-gi-gi-give it to him.He looked toler'ble white under the gills when he riz up to heave out his s-s-sus-sassy talk.And foolish,too.I cal'late I won't be the only town fuf-fuf-fool from now on.He!he!The noises died away in the distance.Within the chapel the tramp of heavy boots sounded as the lights were blown out,one by one.
The minister frowned,sighed,and turned homeward.It is not pleasant to be called a fool,even by a recognized member of the fraternity.
He had taken but a few steps when there was a rustle in the wet grass behind him.
Mr.Ellery,whispered a voice,Mr.Ellery,may I speak to you just a moment?He wheeled in surprise.
Why!why,Miss Van Horne!he exclaimed.Is it you?Mr.Ellery,she began,speaking hurriedly and in a low voice,I--I felt that I must say a word to you before--She paused and glanced back at the chapel.Ezekiel Bassett,the janitor,having extinguished the last lamp,had emerged from the door and was locking up.In another moment he clumped past them in the middle of the road,the circle of light from his lantern just missing them as they stood in the grass at the side under the hornbeam and blackberry bushes.He was alone;Sukey B.had gone on before,other and younger masculine escort having been providentially provided.
Mr.Bassett was out of hearing before Grace finished her sentence.
The minister was silent,waiting and wondering.
I felt,she said,that I must see you and--explain.I am SOsorry you came here to-night.Oh,I wish you hadn't.What made you do it?I came,began Ellery,somewhat stiffly,because I--well,because I thought it might be a good thing to do.As I said--Yes,I know.But it wasn't.It was so--so--So foolish.Thank you,I'm aware of it.I've heard myself called a fool already since I left your church.Not that I needed to hear it.I realize the fact.There was a bitterness in his tone,unmistakable.And a little laugh from his companion did not tend to soothe his feelings.
Thank you,he said.Perhaps it is funny.I did not find it so.Good evening.
