It was not until Wesley had put his horse in motion that the man held up one hand, saying:
“Give me one minute, Mr. Wesley. I know that you are not afraid of me. Why should you be?”
“Why, indeed?” said Wesley. “I know not why I should fear you, seeing that I fear no man who lives on this earth?”
“You came hither with a great blowing of trumpets, Mr. Wesley,” said the man. “You were the one that was to overthrow all the old ways of the Church—you were to make such a noise as would cause the good old dame to awake from her slumber of a century. Well, you did cause her to awake; but the noise that you made awoke more than that good mother, the Church of England—it aroused a demon or two that had been slumbering in these valleys, and they began to show what they could do. They did not forget their ancient trick—an angel of light—isn't that the wiliest sorcery of our ancient friend, the Devil, Mr. Wesley?”
“You should know, if you are his servant sent to mock me,” said Wesley.
“You have taught the people a religion of emotion, and can you wonder that the Enemy has taken up your challenge and gone far beyond you in the same direction? He found a ready tool and a ready fool in your ardent disciple with the comical Welsh name—Richard Pritchard, to wit. He has shown the people that you were too tame, and the water-finder hath found fire to be more attractive as a subject than insipid water. You are beaten out of the field, Mr. Wesley. As usual, the pupil hath surpassed the master, and you find yourself in the second place.”
Wesley sat with his head bent down to his horse's neck. He made no reply to the man's scoff; what to him was the scoffing of this man? When one is sitting in the midst of the ruins of his house what matters it if the wind blows over one a handful of dust off the roadside?
“John Wesley, the preacher, hath been deposed, and Pritchard, the prophet, reigns in his stead,” the man went on. “Ay, and all the day you have been saying to yourself, 'What have I done to deserve this? What have I done to deserve this?' Dare you deny it, O preacher of the Gospel of Truth?”
Wesley bowed his head once more.
“Mayhap you found no answer ready,” Bennet cried. “Then I'll let you into the secret, John Wesley. You are being rightly punished because you have been thinking more of the love of woman than of the Love of God.”