Sera Ketill wiped his brow.
“Yes: Thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory. And we will serve Thee only. Grant us strength that no earthly ties may keep us from Thee and Thy way. That our duty to Thee may ever be set before all else; that we may willingly take up our cross and bear it in patience as did Thy well-beloved Son.”
Sera Ketill paused a moment, and then continued:
“Brethren in Christ, we all know how the Son of God cleansed the Temple at Jerusalem. Today a like duty is laid upon us, the meanest of His servants. To the Almighty, this poor house of prayer is no less sacred than the great Temple; it is the House of the Lord, and no evil must be suffered to dwell therein. And those who have given offence to God cannot be suffered to enter His House until they have begged of Him forgiveness for their sins, kneeling before him with a humble and a contrite heart.
“There is here in our midst an old man who is a cause of offence among this congregation, together with his son, the sharer of his sin.
“The son took to wife a woman out of his father’s house. And the woman has given birth to a child that cannot be the offspring of her husband. Whose, then, is the child? It is said that the old man is the father. I have seen the child, and I cannot but believe that it must have been born earlier than is said. Indeed, I am certain of this. And my wife has seen the child, and can testify to the same. The woman, then, has borne a child in sin. But who is the father?
“Until this matter is made clear, until the parentage of this child is established according to the laws of the Church, we cannot tolerate among us those from whom this offence is come. We cannot suffer them to worship God under the same roof.
“And now, Ørlygur à Borg, and you, Ormarr Ørlygsson, I call on you, in the name of God, to leave this holy place. Amen.”
Alma leaned over towards Ørlygur and grasped his arm. From the commencement of her husband’s speech she had divined his intention, and now in a moment she realized what had been vague to her before.
Ørlygur sat motionless throughout his son’s denunciation, but his brow was firmly knit, and a strange light shone in his eyes.