Wesley welcomed their coming; he had hopes that they would succeed in persuading his host to retire; but before they had been in the room for more than a few minutes Hartwell had well-nigh become himself again.
The newcomers were not greatly affected by anything that had happened. They were only regretful that the mist of the morning had prevented them from reaching the Red Tor in time for the preaching. They had started together, but had stopped upon the way to help a party of their friends who were in search of still another party, and when the strayed ones had been found they all had thought it prudent to remain at a farm where they had dined.
“On our way hither we met with one who had been to the preaching,” said Jake. “He told us something of what we had missed.”
“Were you disappointed to learn that no reference had been made to the very matter that brought me back to you?” asked Wesley.
Jake did not answer immediately. It was apparent that he had his own views on this matter, and that he had been expounding them to his companion on their walk from the farm to the coast.
“Mr. Wesley, 'tis plain to me that the skill at divination shown by that man comes from below, not from above,” he said. “And do you suppose that our enemies will take back any of the foul things they have said about our allying ourselves with sorcery when they hear of the wonderful things that are now happening?”
“Brother,” said Wesley, “if the principles of the Truth which we have been teaching are indeed true, they will survive such calumnies—nay, they will take the firmer hold upon all who have heard us by reason of such calumnies. The gold of the Truth has oft been tried by the fire of calumny and proved itself to be precious.”
“You saw the man play-acting in his sackcloth?” said the carrier.
Wesley shook his head sadly.
“'Twas deplorable!” he said. “And yet I dare not even now speak against him—no, not a word.”