Emberly was on his feet in an instant; but before he could speak the rector had risen.
“If my friend Mr. Emberly will pardon me,” he said, “and permit me to interrupt him, I desire to say that it is my preference that there shall be no controversy over this resolution. I am informed that a majority of the members of the vestry have already pledged themselves to its support. Argument, therefore, which might lead to harsh words and unfriendly thoughts, and would be a mere waste of the time occupied in making it, had better be avoided. However, lest there should be any possible doubt as to my attitude, let me say now that I deny absolutely the charges made against me in the preamble to this resolution, and that, at the proper time and in the proper place, I will defend myself against them.”
Through the tact and good sense of the rector a scene had been avoided. The gentlemen of the vestry, relieved of apprehension, breathed more freely, and Westgate called for the question.
The resolution was adopted without argument. Emberly and Hazzard were the only ones who voted against it, old Mr. Kay, greatly disturbed in mind over the unhappy affair, declining to vote.
Those who had voted “aye” then attached their signatures to the resolution, and the next day it was forwarded to the bishop of the diocese for his godly consideration. When his reply came it was to the effect that inasmuch as he intended to make his annual visitation to the parish early in February, he would postpone a hearing on the charges until that time. What he wrote privately to the rector, if he wrote at all, was never disclosed.
No attempt was made to keep secret the action taken by the vestry at the Friday evening meeting. The whole city knew of it the next morning and was accordingly aroused. The newspapers which, as a matter of journalistic policy, had fought shy of the controversy in its earlier stages, now blazoned forth to the public, under scare head-lines, the news of the climax of the trouble in Christ Church. Whenever two men of the parish met each other on the street, or in any business or social place, the matter was not only mentioned but often freely discussed. Women went far out of their way to gossip about it. Jane Chichester had not found such absorbing occupation, either for her feet or her tongue, in many a day.
Not only the parish, but the whole city was soon divided into two hostile camps. Old friendships were strained, old relations were severed, and many a gap was opened between those who had theretofore walked side by side. In the barroom of the Silver Star saloon a heated controversy over the matter resulted in a fierce brawl, bruised bodies, battered faces, and a police-court episode the following day.
And Mephistopheles drew his red cloak about him, concealed his cloven hoofs therein, sat down in the shadow of an age-old olive tree, and smiled in sinister content.