Betsey had not lost much, it was several times intimated to her during her progress up the hill. “The speakers from a distance” had all failed to appear except two. The forte of one of these seemed to be statistics. He astonished his audience if he did not edify them, putting into round numbers every fact connected with the temperance cause that could possibly be expressed by figures—the quantity of spirits consumed in Canada, the money paid for it, the quantity of grain employed in its manufacture, the loss in flour and meal to the country, the money received for licences, the number of crimes caused by its use, and the cost of these to the country. The other “went in” for “wit and humour,” and there was much clapping of hands and laughter from such of the audience as had not heard his funny stories before, and his was generally pronounced a first-rate speech.
Squire Holt was in “the chair,” but the duty of introducing the speakers was performed by Mr Maxwell, for the squire was feeble, and not equal to all that devolved upon him. Indeed, he dropped asleep, poor old gentleman, while the statistics were being given, and lost the point of the stories and got very tired, as Elizabeth could see. But Mr Maxwell did his part well, and just as Betsey settled herself to hear, he introduced Mr Langden, a friend of the cause from the States.
Mr Langden gave them some statistics also, and expressed himself delighted with the gathering, and the evidence of interest in the good cause. He was delighted, too, with their little town and the water-power, and with their country generally, which was a finer country than he had imagined it to be, and not so far behind his own section. He said a great many agreeable things, and though it did not, in the opinion of the critical part of the audience, amount to much as a temperance address, it was such a speech as it was pleasant to hear.
Then Mr Burnet came forward and charmed the audience with his grand flowing periods. But though his words were splendid, they were few; for Mr Burnet did not care to waste his words on a weary and hungry people. And then came the speech of the day.
Just as Mr Maxwell was considering whether he should give the people a ten minutes’ address, as was of course expected, or dismiss them at once to the tables, toward which some of them were already directing their steps, Clifton Holt came on to the stand and whispered a few words to him, and then came forward, asking leave, not to make a speech, but to introduce a new speaker. He did make a speech, however, short, but telling, and was cheered heartily; but the cheering rose to its loudest and longest when Mark Varney came forward on the stand.
Was it Mark Varney? It was a very different man from the down-looking, heartless poor fellow who had disappeared from Gershom two years ago. Erect and broad and brown he stood, with a look of strength and firmness on his face, though his lips trembled, that no one remembered to have seen there since his early youth, before his foe had mastered him.
In the silence that fell after the first shout of welcome, the people pressed forward, eager to see and hear. A movement toward the point of interest took place through all the field. Those who had grown tired of listening, and those who had not cared to listen, drew near, and several of those on the platform pressed forward the better to see and hear.
Mr Maxwell did not; he drew back rather, after a glance toward the spot where Miss Holt and Miss Langden were sitting, and, resting his elbow on the back of Squire Holt’s chair, leaned his head on his hand. Miss Langden did not see the glance, for she was listening to Clifton, who had returned and was saying something to her. But Elizabeth saw that there was a strange look, grave and glad, on his face, and that he was very pale.
Gradually the rustle and movements which had given Mark time to quiet the trembling of his lips came to an end, and then he and all the throng were startled by a sudden cry—loud and strong, though it was but one man’s voice:
“Mark Varney, before all!”