She spoke of the pure in heart; defining her terms, dwelling on the growth of sin if permitted to linger, emphasizing the truth that we must be ever on the alert to discern the shadow of transgression, until poor Cassy—who had at once entered into the spirit of the sermon—poor Cassy felt that this was being spoken directly to her.
Then as the sweet voice paused, a new measure filled it. She turned from admonition to adoration, depicting the joy there is in heaven over one sinner who returns from his ways, and as if carrying out the thought of the aged man who had preceded her, and which he had so sorely missed in his illustration, she urged the tenderness of an earthly parent to an erring child, and the abounding love and beneficence of our Heavenly Father.
“Dear children,” she cried, “do not fear to approach him. Open your hearts! Search out the hidden places! Let the light stream in and your sins shall be wiped away. Fear not man; that which it is impressed upon you to reveal, dare not to keep secret.”
She resumed her seat and her bonnet, but the seed she had sown took deep root in Cassy’s heart. All through the remaining hour she revolved its teaching in her soul. It was clear the meaning for her was a stronger and heartier purification of her thoughts. Not that George Evans was an unholy object, nor that his affection was to be despised, but that the meeting-house was not the place for human admiration. And oh! what did these words mean, “Not to keep silent?” Was she bidden to unfold this page to George, to tell him that the lesson was for him also?
What pain it cost her to dream of such a task! yet was not this one of those hidden places that should be flooded with light? What if he did deem her unwomanly who could speak on such a matter without having been spoken to? Were not the commands of the Lord to be preferred to any earthly comfort? She should perhaps lose her lover—see herself dethroned, for never a word had he vouchsafed her but of the plainest courtesy, but she should gain the respect of her own conscience. The fires that purify, also blister and burn. How could she refuse? Perhaps George Evans’ soul was in peril too, for well she knew that upon his ear had fallen unheeded the words of the first preacher.
Solemnly the two men friends at the head of the gallery clasped hands, and immediately a little hum of neighborly inquiry went round.
Cassy dreaded to move. She felt, rather than saw, her lover waiting for her outside the door, and silently asking help in her time of trouble, she walked down the aisle. She did not omit any of the customary greetings; she promised to meet with the sewing committee the next day, to carry jelly to an aged friend, and turned and shook the hand which George Evans held out to her.
There was nothing strange that he walked beside her down Arch Street, but he gave her little opportunity to open her heart. They had passed but a short distance when he broke the silence by saying:
“Cassy, does thee know I almost felt that Mary Elwood’s sermon was intended for me? And perhaps for thee, too. I have thought for some time that the Lord had designed thy path and mine to run side by side. Thee knows that this morning was the first opportunity I have had to attend meeting for several weeks, but when I saw thy face it was so pleasant to me that I fell into a worldly train of thought—how I might tell thee of my great hope, that thee would respond to my affection for thee. Mary Elwood’s voice broke my reverie, and showed me where my way led. I resolved then to speak to thee at once, for something in thy look betrayed thy feeling, and I feared I had led thee into evil; that my glance, as I entered meeting, had possessed the power of withdrawing thy meditation from the Lord, and the voice of his servant warned me to repent, and hesitate not to reveal to thee the source of my inquietude.”
Gravely she laid her hand upon his arm, and with but one shy upward glance at his earnest face, she said solemnly: