The room was, at this point, densely crowded and every face turned toward the tall and portly form rising from the back. In the flickering lamplight it could be seen that the face usually so ruddy and full was blanched by determination and passion.
"My friends and neighbours!" said Barron, "it is with sorrow and grief that I rise to say the few words that I intend to say. On the audacity and illegality of what you have just done I shall say nothing. Argument, I know, would be useless. But this I have come to say: You have just been led—misled—into an act of heresy and rebellion by the man who should be your pastor in the Faith, who is responsible to God for your souls. Why have you been misled?—why do you follow him?" He flung out his hand toward Meynell.
"Because you admire and respect him—because you believe him a good man—a man of honest and pure life. And I am here to tell you, or rather to remind you, for indeed you all know it—that your Rector lies at this moment under a painful and disgraceful charge; that this charge has been circulated—in a discreditable way—a way for which I have no defence and of which I know nothing—throughout this diocese, and indeed throughout England; that your fair fame, as well as his are concerned; and, nevertheless, he refuses to take the only steps which can clear his character, and repay you for the devotion you have shown him! I call upon you, sir!"—the speaker bent forward, pointing impressively to the chairman of the meeting and emphasizing every word—"to take those steps at once! They are open to you at any moment. Take them against myself! I have given, I will give, you every opportunity. But till that is done do not continue, in the face of the congregation you have deceived and led astray, to assume the tone of hypocritical authority in which you have just spoken! You have no moral right to any authority among us; you never had any such right; and in Christian eyes your infidel teaching has led to its natural results. At any rate, I trust that now, at last, even these your friends and dupes will see the absolute necessity, before many weeks are over, of either forcing you to resign your living, or forcing you to take the only means open to honest men of protecting their character!"
He resumed his seat. The audience sat petrified a moment. Then Hugh Flaxman sprang to his feet, and two or three others, the local preacher among them. But Meynell had also risen.
"Please, Mr. Flaxman—my friends—!"
He waved a quiet hand toward those who had risen, and they unwillingly gave way. Then the Rector looked round the room for a few silent instants. He was very white, but when he spoke it was with complete composure.
"I expected something of this kind to happen, and whether it had happened or no I should have spoken to you on this matter before we separated. I know—you all know—to what Mr. Barron refers—that he is speaking of the anonymous letters concerning myself and others which have been circulated in this neighbourhood. He calls upon me, I understand, to take legal action with regard both to them and to the reports which he has himself circulated, by word of mouth, and probably by letter. Now I want you plainly to understand"—he bent forward, his hands on the table before him, each word clear and resonant—"that I shall take no such action! My reasons I shall not give you. I stand upon my life among you and my character among you all these years. This only I will say to you, my friends and my parishioners: The abominable story told in these letters—the story which Mr. Barron believes, or tries to make himself believe—is untrue. But I will say no more than that—to you, or any one else. And if you are to make legal action on my part a test of whether you will continue to follow me religiously—to accept me as your leader, or no—then my friends, we must part! You must go your way, and I must go mine. There will be still work for me to do; and God knows our hearts—yours and mine."
He paused, looking intently into the lines of blanched faces before him.
Then he added:
"You may wish to discuss this matter. I recognize it as natural you should wish to discuss it. But I shall not discuss it with you. I shall withdraw. Mr. Dawes—will you take the chair?"
He beckoned to the colliery manager, who automatically obeyed him. The room broke into a hubbub, men and women pressing round Meynell as he made his way to the door. But he put them aside, gently and cheerfully.