"Deep down in my heart, during my pastorate among you, there was a current of fear lest I might be wrong, and this is the reason why I concealed my views from the public. My only confidant was Mr. Justin Mercer, and may God save him from any harm on account of it."
At the end of an hour he paused, but the congregation would not go home. Were they to have one of the old-fashioned, much-sneered-at revivals,—the revivals that left good, and good only in their train?
The minister came down from the pulpit, and took his stand by the communion-table. One after another of his old deacons rose and testified to the pleasure it gave them to have him again with them, of their sense of his loss, and their prayerful wishes for his prosperity in the new field he had chosen.
Justin Mercer was present, and after his short, manly address, Captain White rose beside him.
This man, so well-known, had never before lifted up his voice in a religious service, and all eyes were turned curiously upon him.
"Friends," he said, seriously, "I don't know much about church services, but I'll tell you what has come to me since I've been sitting here. This world is a pretty decent old world, but when you come to think about dying, a good many of its affairs seem vanity. I've just been thinking,—suppose I die to-night. I might. Death comes pretty sudden. Where am I going? It will be a long voyage I'm setting out on. I want to know my home port, I want to know my pilot. I want to know the number of his boat. Friends, I think I've found it out to-night. The boat is the old boat of Salvation, and the name of the pilot is Jesus Christ, the Saviour of the world. I am a poor sinner, but I repent of my sins, and if there's any good in sinners getting together and trying to do some work with the help of the saints, I want to join along with you here."
"Amen," said Mr. Huntington, softly, "that boat is wide and deep, there is room for others."
There were others who wished to enter, and the meeting did not close for another hour. Then there were hand-shakings and greetings, and Bernal Huntington's face shone with happiness, until Captain White whispered something in his ear, when it took on a hue of anxiety.
He slipped through the throng of people to the door. There, toiling up the steps at this late hour, was a dark-robed, slender figure, alarmingly pale, even through her veil.
"Chelda," he ejaculated.