A Galahad of the Creeks; The Widow Lamport

by S. Levett Yeats

"Yes," replied Bunny, "and at once. I have advised this course. In his present state of mind there is nothing else for him to do."

"Very well," replied Bullin; "we had better see him to-day; there are a few things that must be done--we, as members of the council, can arrange this."

Bunny thanked him. "It is what I was going to propose myself," he said; "we will see him after the congregation has been dismissed--perhaps you had better do this--he wishes to go to-night."

Bullin agreed. "I suppose," he asked, "you have no news of his unfortunate wi----?" He stopped and looked somewhat awkwardly at Bunny.

"No," was the reply, "there has not been time; but I shall arrange about that if it can be done. In the meantime Galbraith must go."

As they spoke the church began to fill, and people entered in groups of twos and threes, or singly. Some, on entering, flung themselves devoutly on their knees and remained absorbed in prayer. Others made a pretence of kneeling. A few, a very few, young men put their faces into their hats, and probably examined the maker's name therein.

The clerk, who also officiated at the American harmonium, played the first bars of an old hymn; and, to the astonishment of the worshippers, Elder Bullin rose from his seat, and, ascending the pulpit, gave out the hymn to be sung. He led it off himself with a fairly good voice, and was accompanied by the whole congregation. At its conclusion, and when the long-drawn Amen died away with the notes of the organ, the elder, in a few brief words, informed the people that, owing to a domestic affliction, their beloved brother and pastor was unable to attend that day, that the trouble was of so serious a nature that it was impossible that the regular service should be held that morning, and he begged that the congregation would disperse after a short prayer and the singing of another hymn. The prayer was then offered up by the elder, and the hymn sung. One by one the people arose, after a little decorous silence, and it was not until they had passed out into the church enclosure that the full tide of their curiosity burst. Lizzie and Laura were besieged with questions, but they knew nothing, and the dread of the elder's wrath hurried them away. It became necessary for Mr. Bunny himself to go out and beg the congregation to disperse. He informed them that Galbraith was very ill, and that the kindest thing they could do was to go home. This they did after some little time. After a last instruction to the clerk to hold his tongue for the present, Bunny and the elder passed through the wicket-gate, and, walking slowly up the gravel path, entered the manse. The door of the study was slightly open, and Bunny knocked; there was no answer, and both he and the elder stepped in. Galbraith was there, sitting at his table, his white drawn face showing all the signs of the terrible time he had passed through. There was a hunted look in his eyes, which shifted their glance from side to side. Bullin held out his hand without a word. Galbraith rose and shook it silently, and then, turning, walked to the window.

Bunny approached him and whispered in his ear, while the elder employed himself in smoothing the nap of his hat with his coat-sleeve.

"Very well," said Galbraith; "you are right--the sooner the better." What was wanted were some papers relating to the church. Galbraith opened a drawer of his writing-table. They were all there, tied in neat piles, with labels showing what they were. He shuddered as he saw the handwriting on these labels, and his hand shook like a leaf in the wind as he picked out the bundles one by one and handed them to the elder.

At last the necessary business was concluded, and Bullin rose. He attempted to speak, but was unable to do so; and gathering up the papers in his hands, stood for a moment as if irresolute.