“I wish they would. I believe you could make a very good speech on Christian union, Tom.”
It is gratefully recorded, as one of the most hopeful signs of the times, that this meeting of ministers was a success. For two whole hours they elected to believe in one another, and each man endeavoured, to the best of his ability, to give his brother ministers, whether of the Episcopal or the Free Churches, credit for being actuated by the same high motives as those which governed himself. They did not, therefore—as they so easily might have done—frustrate the endeavours of the layman-peacemaker, but loyally seconded them.
Mr. Whitwell, as the host, was also the president. He proposed, after luncheon, that they should open their conference by prayer, and called upon a young Primitive Methodist minister to lead them. This gave the right tone to the conversation, and a few words from Mr. Whitwell, expressing the hope that there would be a concerted action on the part of the Church to wipe out the stain which had been put upon the town, were well received. Then the vicar proposed that a meeting of Christian townsmen should be called to arrange some method of procedure. This was seconded by the Wesleyan superintendent, and cordially carried. They then proceeded to details, first settling upon the place of meeting, and then upon the speakers. There were in all fourteen buildings in Scourby erected for the worship of God, and in the name of Him whose great wish for His disciples was that they might all be one; but it was decided that neither of these would serve their purpose, it was safer to hold the meeting in the town hall. It was to be called by letter, which each man undertook to send to the members of his own church. Mr. Whitwell was to preside over that meeting also, and the least political of the ministers was to move a resolution of regret at what had occurred, and determination to prevent a repetition of it.
A large number of men responded to the invitation; many who took no active part in politics feeling that they ought to be present on this occasion. After the chief speeches had been made, the meeting was thrown open for discussion, and it was at this juncture that some of the most forcible words were uttered. Each speaker was allowed five minutes; and several crisp little addresses were worthy of being remembered.
“Sir,” said one, “let us petition Parliament to declare the election void, because it is an insult to our Lord more than to us. And yet I think it would not have happened if we had not been caught napping. Here are all our ministers sitting on the platform together. How is it that such a sight in Scourby was never witnessed before in the memory of living man? If, as soon as the vacancy occurred, you gentlemen had called us together, there might now be representing us in Parliament a man of whom we might all be proud, instead of one of whom we are all ashamed. Gentlemen, are you not supposed to be our leaders? Why, then, did you leave us to ourselves in the late emergency?”
“What we have always wanted is union,” said another. “The time has surely come for it now. There are plenty of other men like Mr. Lavender, ready to declare themselves haters of what we love. I hope other towns will profit by our mistake. This is a meeting to be thankful for. We are forgetting, for this one night, whether we are Radicals or Conservatives, and only remembering that we are Christians. For God’s sake, let us work shoulder to shoulder in the future.”
John Dallington had invited Arthur Knight to come down and speak at that meeting; and though he only had five minutes, he managed to make one of his characteristic speeches. “Why,” he asked pertinently, “did the men of this town believe in Richard Lavender instead of in you? Is the British working man a fool, that he does not know his friends? What have you, the representative Christian men of Scourby, called to be rulers of men for their good, been doing that this thing should have happened to you?”
Mr. Whitwell was so delighted with Arthur Knight that he told his nephew he must have him for his guest. “Come, too, John,” he said, “and let us talk these things over. My wife and daughters will be glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Knight. Here is the youngest. Tom! Let me introduce you to each other. Mr. Knight, of London—Miss Grace Thomasine Whitwell.”
Tom blushed vividly; and as for Arthur Knight, he was so astonished that he did not know what to say, for he suddenly became conscious that he was looking into the bright face of the lady whom he longed to know, and holding the hand that had rendered such kind service to some of his people. He was going to exclaim, but Tom greeted him as a stranger, and though her eyes were sparkling with fun, they said, as plainly as any words could have done, “Do not dare to say that we have met before!”