"Did I, or did I not, say to many members of the Society, 'This man is dangerous. He has fallen from grace. He is hankering after new-fangled doctrine, and is ramping with red-hot over-bearingness?'"
"Yon did, sir," answered a stout, broad-faced man named Blogg, who looked like a farmer, but was a linendraper in a small way of business. "You said so frequently; I remember your very words, and can testify to 'em."
(This speech appeared to produce a considerable effect. Mrs. Thimbleby began to cry; and, not having an apron at hand, threw the corner of her shawl over her face.)
"Did I, or did I not, say that if things went on at this kind of rate, I should withdraw from the Society? And did I, or did I not, withdraw from it accordin'?"
"Sir," said Mr. Blogg, "I saw you with my own eyes a-coming out of the parish church of St. Chad's, at ten minutes to one o'clock in the afternoon of the Sunday next following your utterance of them identical expressions; and cannot deny or evade the truth, but must declare it to the best of my ability, with no regard to any human respects, but for the ease and liberation of my conscience as a sincere though humble professor."
There was a general feeling that, in some conclusive though mysterious way, the linendraper had brought a crushing weight of evidence to bear against David Powell; and even the preacher's best friends would find it difficult to defend him after that!
Old Max looked round triumphantly, and proceeded to follow up the impression thus made. "And then I'm to be told," said he, "that the lunatic doings on Whit Meadow are the work of Heavenly powers, eh? Come, Gladwish—you're a man as has read theologies and controversies, and are acquainted with the history of Wesleyan Methodism as well as most members in Whitford—I should like to know what arguments you have to advance against plain facts—facts known to us all, and testified to by Robert Blogg, linendraper, now present, and for many years a respected class-leader in this town?"
"Well, but we have plain facts to bring forward too," said Richard Gibbs, with anxious earnestness.
"I ask you, Gladwish, what arguments you have to bring forward," repeated Maxfield, determinedly repressing any outward sign of having heard the presumptuous Gibbs.
"If this be not Satan's doing, I have no knowledge of the words of the devil, and I suppose I shall hardly be told that, after regular attendance in a congregation of Wesleyan Methodists for fifty odd years, man and boy! But," continued the old man, after a short silence, which none of those present ventured to break, "there's no knowing, truly. These are new-fangled days. I cannot say but what I may live to hear it declared that I know nothing of Satan, nor cannot discern his works when I see them!"