“You could not see my heart, Miller,” said Pritchard. “'Twas only that I was humble in voice; I know now that in spirit I was puffed up with pride, so that I could hardly contain myself. But even after the truth came upon me in that flash, I was ready to treat the likes of you, Miller—ay, even the likes of thee, Jake Pullsford, as mine equal, so affable a heart had I by birth.”
“You promoted yourself a bit, Dick,” remarked the miller. “But I've always observed that when a man tells another in that affable way that he regards the other as his equal, he fancies in the inwardness of his heart, that he is far above the one he gives such an assurance to.”
“I feel a sort of light of knowledge within me ready to break forth and tell me a wonderful reply to that remark of yours, Miller,” said Pritchard. “Tarry a while, and give me time for the light to-break forth with fulness, and you'll be rewarded; friends, you will hear a reply that will make you all stand back in amaze, and marvel, as I have done, how noble a thing is the gift of speech—saying a phrase or two that makes the flesh of man tingle. All I ask is time. It may not come to me within the hour, but——”
“Here's one that hath come to thee, my man, and he will listen to all you have to say: I hear the sound of his horse on the lane,” cried the miller.
Jake Pullsford sprang from the settle, and strained himself to look out of the window.
“Right; 'tis Mr. Wesley, in very deed,” he said.
“That's as should be,” cried Pritchard, with an air of satisfaction that made the others feel the more astonished.
And when Wesley had entered and greeted his-friends, including the water-finder, they were a good deal more astonished at the attitude taken by Pritchard. Without wasting time over preliminaries, he assumed that Wesley had come to the Mill in order not to admonish him, but to be admonished by him. Before Mr. Wesley had time to say more than a word, Pritchard had become fluent on the subject of the preacher's responsibilities. It was not for Mr. Wesley to go wandering in the uttermost parts of Cornwall, he said; he should have remained at Porthawn to consolidate the work that he had begun; had he done so until he had gathered in every soul, the Lord might have been as merciful to the world as He had been to Nineveh in the days of Jonah. But Mr. Wesley had, like Jonah, fled from his duty, and the next Monday was to be the Day of Judgment.
Wesley listened gravely until the man got upon his feet and with an outstretched finger toward him, cried:
“I have been mocked by some, and held in silent despite by others—all of them professing to be of the Household of Faith, because the Spirit of prophecy came upon me, and I announced the truth. Nor, Mr. Wesley, will you dare to join with the disbelievers and say straight out that the first Monday will not be the Last Day that will dawn on this world?”