There, before the shining marble pulpit which he had planned and built in the early years of his life, for the idol of his youth, stood St. Elmo; and the congregation, especially those of his native village, looked with involuntary admiration and pride at the erect, powerful form, clad in its suit of black—at the nobly proportioned head, where gray locks were visible.
"But if there be any of you who knoweth any impediment or crime, for the which he ought not to be received into this holy ministry, let him come forth, in the name of God, and show what the crime or impediment is."
The preacher paused, the echo of his words died away, and perfect silence reigned. Suddenly St. Elmo raised his eyes from the railing of the altar, and, turning his face slightly, looked through the eastern window at the ivy-draped vault where slept Murray and Annie. The world was silent, but conscience and the dead accused him. An expression of intolerable pain crossed his handsome features, then his hands folded themselves tightly together on the top of the marble balustrade, and he looked appealingly up to the pale Jesus staggering under his cross.
At that instant a spotless white pigeon from the belfry found its way into the church through the open doors, circled once around the building, fluttered against the window, hiding momentarily the crown of thorns, and, frightened and confused, fell upon the fluted pillar of the pulpit.
An electric thrill ran through the congregation; and as the minister resumed the services, he saw on St. Elmo's face a light, a great joy, such as human countenances rarely wear this side of the grave.
When Mr. Murray knelt and the ordaining hands were laid upon his head, a sob was heard from the pew where his mother sat, and the voice of the preacher faltered as he delivered the Bible to the kneeling man, saying:
"Take thou authority to preach the word of God, and to administer the holy sacraments in the congregation."
There were no dry eyes in the entire assembly, save two that looked out, coldly blue, from the pew where Mrs. Powell sat like a statue, between her daughter and Gordon Leigh.
Mr. Hammond tottered across the altar, and knelt down close to Mr. Murray; and many who knew the history of the pastor's family, wept as the gray head fell on the broad shoulder of St. Elmo, whose arm was thrown around the old man's form, and the ordaining minister, with tears rolling over his face, extended his hands in benediction above them.
"The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God, and of His Son Jesus Christ our Lord; and the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, be among you, and remain with you alway."