“I t’ought religion was free. If I got to pay money for it like I do for beer, w’y I guess I can git along wit’out it.”
There were many more, not so outspoken, across whose minds trickled the same thought. It is strange how the ardor of men in any cause, not even excepting the cause of religion, will become suddenly dampened by an appeal to them to support it by liberal contributions of money.
Of those who had espoused the cause of the rector from the start, the ranks were practically unbroken. Those who believed in him and adhered to him were still faithful, and devoted to the carrying out of his purpose. Yet some among them, especially men of experience and business training, began to be doubtful of the outcome. More than one of them, watching the course of events, noting the depletion of funds and the circumscribing of activities, expressed frankly to the rector their fears for the future. He made light of their doubts and urged them to still greater zeal. He assured them that the battle would eventually be won, that the principles of the Christian religion were at stake, and that God would not permit the integrity of His Church to be successfully assailed, nor the upholders of His gospel to go down to defeat. So he inspired them anew, and the fight went on.
But no person in the entire parish kept in closer touch with the situation, or was better informed concerning the progress of events, than was Mary Bradley. She exhausted all possible sources of information to keep herself conversant with conditions. Passionately desirous of seeing the rector of Christ Church win his battle for social righteousness, she knew, nevertheless, that he was waging a losing fight, and that he had already reached the point where capitulation was necessary, if he would save himself. She had said as much to Barry Malleson weeks ago. She longed to say it now to the rector himself. She could as little bear to see him go on, unwittingly, to sure destruction, as she could bear to see him yield the splendid position he had taken in behalf of humble humanity.
When Barry came in one day he told her he had heard that the vestry was about to curtail the rector’s salary, or to refuse payment of it altogether, on the ground that he had violated his contract with the parish by engaging in activities antagonistic to the Church and to the Christian religion.
“Barry,” she said, “I want you to go with me to the rectory.”
He looked up inquiringly.
“What—what for?” he asked.
“I want to tell that man to call quits, and save his life,” she replied. “If he doesn’t, they’ll murder him.”
Barry stared at her in astonishment.