But William was not to be got so quietly away. In the front pew young David had risen. Was his father not now to have a decent burying? David's face was aflame; he did not see the madness in the shivering figure and the bright eyes of William Koehler. William belonged with his son Alvin, and both were hateful.
But David had no chance to speak. The preacher foolishly held up a forbidding hand to poor William.
"You cannot say such a thing at this time and not confess that it is not true. The accused cannot answer for himself."
Poor William rubbed his hands over his eyes. He still had great respect for the authority of preachers. Besides, he saw John Hartman suddenly as a dead man, and since his trouble he had always been afraid of death. No revenge could be visited upon this deaf, impassible object, that was sure!
"Ach, I forget my mind!" wailed poor William. "I forget my mind!"
Then William could have been led unresisting away. But the preacher, stupidly insistent, held up his hand again.
"Do you confess that your accusation is not true?" said he.
William placed a hand on either side of his forehead. It seemed as though his head were bursting and he must hold it close together. There was now a murmur of speech in the congregation. This terrible scene had gone on long enough; John Hartman did not need defense from so absurd an accusation. Then the murmur ceased.
"No!" cried William. "It is not true. I took the communion set myself!"
William was now led away, a final seal put upon the pit in which his honesty and sanity lay buried. Another unforgivable offense was added to the sum of unforgivable offenses of the son of William Koehler toward young David. The confession did not help the Millerstown church to recover its beautiful silver. William's insanity, the congregation thought, was the only bar to its recovery.