A Knight of the Nineteenth Century

by Edward Payson Roe

But the stony repose and calm of their Gothic temple was not reflected in the faces of the people. There was a general air of perturbation and expectancy. The peculiar and complacent expression of those who are conscious of being especially well dressed and respectable was conspicuously absent. Annoyed, vexed, anxious faces passed into the vestibule. Knots of twos, threes, and half-dozens lingered and talked eagerly, with emphatic gestures and much shaking of heads. Many who disliked rough weather from any cause avoided their fellow-members, and glided hastily in, looking worried and uncomfortable. Between the managing officers, who had felicitated themselves on having secured a congregation containing the creme de la creme of the city, on one hand, and the disquieted Mr. Blakeman, who found the church growing uncomfortably cold, on the other, Mrs. Arnot's words and acts and the minister's implied pledge to bring the matter squarely to an issue, had become generally known, and a foreboding as of some great catastrophe oppressed the people. If the truth were known, there were very general misgivings; and, now that the people had been led to think, there were some uncomfortable aspects to the question. Even that august dignitary the sexton was in a painful dilemma as to whether it would be best to assume an air of offended dignity, or veer with these eddying and varying currents until sure from what quarter the wind would finally blow. He had learned that it was Mrs. Arnot whom he had twice carelessly motioned with his thumb into a back seat, and he could not help remarking to several of the more conservative members, that "it was very unjust and also unkind in Mrs. Arnot to palm herself off on him as an ordinary pusson, when for a long time it had been the plainly understood policy of the church not to encourage ordinary pussons."

But the rumor that something unusual was about to take place at St. Paul's brought thither on this particular Sabbath all kinds and descriptions of people; and the dignified functionary whose duty it was to seat them grew so hot and flustered with his unwonted tasks, and made such strange blunders, that both he and others felt that they were on the verge of chaos. But the most extraordinary appearing personage was no other than Mr. Jeremiah Growther; and, as with his gnarled cane he hobbled along at Haldane's side, he looked for all the world as if some grotesque and antique carving had come to life and was out for an airing. Not only the sexton, but many others, looked askance at the tall, broad-shouldered youth of such evil fame, and his weird-appearing companion, as they walked quite far up the aisle before they could find a seat.

Many rubbed their eyes to be sure it was not a dream. What had come over the decorous and elegant St. Paul's? When before had its dim, religious light revealed such scenes? Whence this irruption of strange, uncouth creatures—a jail-bird in a laborer's garb, and the profane old hermit, whom the boys had nicknamed "Jerry Growler," and who had not been seen in church for years.

Mrs. Arnot, followed by many eyes, passed quietly up to her pew, and bowed her head in prayer.

Prayer! Ah! in their perturbation some had forgotten that this was the place of prayer, and hastily bowed their heads also.

Mr. Arnot had been engaged in his business to the very steps, and much too absorbed during the week to hear or heed any rumors; but as he walked up the aisle he stared around in evident surprise, and gave several furtive glances over his shoulder after being seated. As his wife raised her head, he leaned toward her and whispered:

"What's the matter with Jeems? for, if I mistake not, there are a good many second-class saints here to-day." But not a muscle changed in Mrs. Arnot's pale face. Indeed, she scarcely heard him. Her soul was and had been for several days in the upper sanctuary, in the presence of God, pleading with him that he would return to this earthly temple which the spirit of the world had seemingly usurped.

When Dr. Barstow arose to commence the service, a profound hush fell upon the people. Even his face and bearing impressed and awed them, and it was evident that he, too, had climbed some spiritual mountain, and had been face to face with God.

As he proceeded with the service in tones that were deep and magnetic, the sense of unwonted solemnity increased. Hymns had been selected which the choir could not perform, but must sing; and the relation between the sacred words and the music was apparent. The Scripture lessons were read as if they were a message for that particular congregation and for that special occasion, and, as the simple and authoritative words fell on the ear the general misgiving was increased. They seemed wholly on Mrs. Arnot's side; or, rather, she was on theirs.

When, at last, Dr. Barstow rose, not as a sacred orator and theologian who is about to deliver a sermon, but rather as an earnest man, who had something of vital moment to say, the silence became almost oppressive.