Passing out of the dimly-lighted chapel into the blackness of the night, Dr. Hale took the arm of the young minister, saying:
‘Let me guide you, Mr. Penrose. I know these roads by instinct.’
‘Yes, doctor, I not only need your guidance, but that of someone else. Black as the night is, it isn't so black as the souls of those benighted inquisitors we've left behind us. There are stars behind those clouds; but there are none hidden behind the murky creed of the deacons of Rehoboth. Do they expect me, doctor, to carry their decision to Mrs. Stott and her daughter?’
‘I believe they do. Hard messages, you know, must be delivered both by ministers and doctors. It is my lot sometimes to tell people that their days are numbered, when I would almost as soon face death myself.’
‘Well, I have made up my mind, doctor, to face the resignation of Rehoboth rather than carry their heartless decision to Amanda.’
‘Wait until morning, and then come on to my house and consult with old Mr. Morell; he is staying with me for a day or two. You never met with him. Perhaps he can guide, or at any rate help you. Wisdom lies with the ancients, you know.’
‘But are not the men who have refused admission to Amanda the spiritual children of Mr. Morell? If his preaching has brought about what we have seen and heard to-night, what guidance or help can I get from him?’
‘Just so,’ said the doctor. ‘I was not thinking of that. It's true he was pastor here for over forty years, and our deacons are his spiritual offspring. For all that, the old man's heart is right if his head is wrong; and, after all, it's the heart that rules the life.’
‘Nay! no heart could thrive on a creed such as Rehoboth's. Why, God's heart would grow Jean on it.’
‘But Mr. Morell's heart is not lean, Mr. Penrose. It is not, I assure you,’ emphasized the doctor, as his companion uttered a sceptical grunt. ‘He is tenderness incarnate. You know one good thing came out of Nazareth, despite the scepticism of the disciple.’