Ann sat down, amid a chorus of Amens, and Clem was eagerly besought to testify; but Clem was literally dumb with rage, and sat mute whilst the Reverend Fletcher prayed that the "new-found brother might be given the gift of holy speech" that he might "show forth the mercy he had found," concluding by giving thanks for the conversion of this great sinner. And this to a man who had been so long a favored one with the godly in the land! It was too much. Clem trembled with rage. Ann's life would hardly have been safe at that moment could Clem have laid hands on her. As it was, she did not fall in his way, and old Clem took French leave of Jamestown that night, shaking the dust from off his feet as a testimony against it. He resolved as he left the village never again to try to keep up with the religious folk. Clem decided they made the place too hot for him.
The Reverend Fletcher rose and began his address. Robbed of its exuberance of expression it was an effective one. He concluded with an impassioned appeal to his hearers to accept the truth.
"Is there," he said, "none among you to whom there appears a little, lonely grave, whose whispering grasses plead to you to think of the little one buried there? Wandering alone in Heaven, seeking there the love it had on earth, already wearied by its long waiting, already faltering as it searches for the loved face, already heart-sick as it listens to the angels singing the names of the saved on earth—but never, never hears that loved name in the heavenly roll-call? Is there none among you who has an empty heart? Is there none among you who feels, in memory only, the loving touch of baby fingers? Is there none among you who, in dreams only, hears a baby voice cry 'Mother—Mother'? If there is such a mother, will she sit stubbornly silent here whilst her lonely child—orphaned even in Heaven because of her hard-heartedness—searches ever on and on for the mother that will not come to him?"
Mr. Fletcher paused. There was breathless silence for a moment, then there was a stir far back near the door. The congregation moved, looked round, and murmured. A woman's figure came swiftly down the aisle, reached the clear space before the platform—stood—wavered. The next moment Myron Holder had fallen to the floor, prostrate as a novice beneath the pall.
Myron Holder and the Reverend Fletcher stood alone in the empty church. Mrs. Deans waited impatiently outside. She had never dreamed Mr. Fletcher would treat her thus! The noise of the departing congregation was dying away, and Mr. Fletcher was carrying out a stern resolution he had made. He was talking to Myron Holder of her sin and its enormity; upbraiding her for the past, and cautioning her against the future. She listened meekly, admitting her sin and saying no single word in palliation of it. He was giving her stern advice regarding her attitude towards the rest of the village, when she interrupted him for the first time.
"I am leaving Jamestown to-morrow," she said.
"What?" said Mr. Fletcher.
"I am leaving Jamestown to-morrow,"
The Reverend Fletcher's brow grew stern.
"Is that how you are going to evidence the new mercy you have found—by going out into the world to deceive people?"