Mrs. Gray and her neighbor, Mrs. Butterworth, exchanged serene glances of recognition across the shallow partition that separated them, but the latter added a look of inquiry as it was observed that Winifred was with her family. Mrs. Gray's heart sank at the thought of having to explain the phenomenon when once the service should be over. Winifred felt that many eyes must note her presence there instead of in the choir, and the embarrassment of the thought almost dissipated the spirit of true worship for which she had longed and prayed. But she had soon forgotten to a considerable degree the people about her, and gave herself diligently to the service. It was not altogether without self-consciousness, however, that she joined in the hymns, fearing lest her own voice should be heard above others. Mrs. Gray, too, wished that she would not sing quite so loudly, lest it should destroy the convenient fiction of the laryngitis.
Hubert realized that he took his place in the congregation on an entirely new basis this day, and he endeavored earnestly to put away all spirit of his former prejudice and to receive in meekness anything which his Lord might say to him from His place in the midst. He tried to forget how utterly hollow and meaningless the formalities of the service had heretofore seemed to him, and to discern, if possible, within the mold of man's fashioning the operation of the Spirit of God. With his own heart at peace with God and charged with His joy, it was easy to look upon all about him more kindly, with an eye as critical to find good and honor it as to discover evil. Upon even his long-time aversion, Doctor Schoolman, he looked with expectancy, for had he not, after all, known for these many years Him whom he—Hubert—had but just "begun to know," as Winifred would put it? With ears now open, should he not hear much which would cause his heart to burn within him?
Hubert and Winifred shared the same hymn-book, and together sang with deep gladness hymns which ascribe praises to Christ. But, intent upon truthfulness, Winifred paused before sentiments not understood, or the profession of experiences quite unfelt, and let the congregation sing on without her. The privilege of doing so gave her keen satisfaction, even though it was difficult to stop in the midst of a pleasant melody.
"Better a break in the melody than in sincerity," she said to herself, "since the Lord is here and taking note of everything."
The thought of His presence was very sweet; not at all the vision of terror which it had seemed to her a week ago. She found the fear of Him not incompatible with the purest confidence and love.
The choir rendered their accustomed service, and a new soprano, on trial, exploited her skill in solo parts. She sang without Winifred's refinement of artistic sense, but sang fashionably. She sang dramatically, and cast languishing glances at the unresponsive backs of the congregation, blinking over her notes as though invisible footlights dazzled her eyes. It was not easy to find the sentiment sung in the midst of the quavering notes, so the poor worshipers below could scarcely offer "amens" in their hearts; but they might perhaps consider thankfully that some sort of noise, "joyful" or otherwise, had been made unto the Lord by their paid proxy.
Doctor Schoolman's sermon was a typical one. Finished and elegant, his polished sentences reached his congregation gently; not like swift arrows from a tense bow, but rather like harmless darts taken from the preacher's quiver and laid without violence against the hearts of his listeners. Very good arrows they often were from the philosophic standpoint, but seldom fashioned from the rugged essential truths of the doctrine of Christ.
He had a text from Scripture certainly. But no slavish adherence to its evident meaning, as seen by its setting, hampered the orator in his thought. Indeed, was it not a kindness to the old Book that still somewhat from its pages was thought worthy to act as a peg upon which to hang the ripe and cultivated ideas of the twentieth century?
Hubert did not find his soul much fed by the discourse, but, keen and discriminating as his mind might be, he was not yet a Bible student and able to disentangle the original thoughts of the preacher from the teachings of revelation. He found much to assent to ethically, but, compared with the revelation in his laboratory when the pure light of heaven shone upon the pages of John's Gospel, the rhetorical utterances of Doctor Schoolman were as water unto wine. They were not so commanding but that he at last found time to glance at his neighbors to see how they were taking the sermon. Winifred was too near him to be looked at, likewise his father; but he could see his mother. Very elegant, very composed, very approving she looked. A calm contentment beamed upon her mobile face, and Hubert could not help it that his sharp eye, formed to detect minutiae, printed upon his mind even the details of the picture she made, sitting so quietly there. Soft, lustrous, black silk became well the figure which a life of gentle inactivity caused to incline to corpulence, while a modest show of exquisite lace relieved its somberness. There was just a tiny glitter of costly gems, not too vulgarly showy for church, and the most suitable of bonnets crowned the graceful head, whose waves of soft brown hair still repudiated silver.
The minister's text led him to heaven at this point, and he drew it in sentimental lines; a place whose essential light was not so much the Lamb as other things; a place of reunited friends, of congenial occupations, of tastes gratified, and of knowledge ever widening. He offered no uncomfortable suggestion that any of his hearers might fail of entering there.