The effect of the sermon and prayer was overpowering. There were no tears, but men walked out with heads more erect, because of the exaltation of spirit which was theirs. And women, fearful of the coming hour of parting, felt their hearts grow strong within them with the thought that they were voluntarily sending their men away. Upon the whole congregation lay a new and solemn sense of duty, a new and uplifting sense of privilege in making the sacrifice of all that they counted precious for this holy cause.
It was the sermon that brought the decision in the matter of Barry's appointment.
“What do you think of that, Colonel Kavanagh?” asked Captain Neil Fraser, who came in for the service.
“A very fine sermon! A very notable sermon!” said the colonel. “Who is he?”
“He is my own minister,” said Captain Neil, “and he gave me, to-day, the surprise of my life. I didn't know it was in him. I understand there is a chance of his being our chaplain. He is Sergeant Dunbar's son.”
“I wish to Heaven we could take him with us! What about it, Fraser? We've got the father, why not the son, too? They'd both like it.”
“I say, Colonel, for Heaven's sake, have a heart. I hated to surrender my company sergeant major. I don't think I ought to be asked to surrender our chaplain.”
“All right, Fraser, so be it. But you have got a wonderful chaplain in that boy. What a face! What a voice! And that's the kind of a spirit we want in our men.”
That very afternoon, Captain Neil went straight away to Colonel Leighton, the officer commanding the new regiment to which Captain Neil's company belonged. To the colonel he gave an enthusiastic report of the sermon, with Colonel Kavanagh's judgment thereon.
“I would suggest, sir, that you wire Ottawa on the matter,” he urged. “If Colonel Kavanagh thought he had a chance, he would not hesitate. We really ought to get this fixed. I assure you he's a find.”