The Heart of a Mystery

by T. W. Speight

It had never been Ephraim's lot to break down, nor even to hesitate for longer than a passing moment owing to a paucity of language in which to give expression to his ideas. Rather did he suffer from a plenitude of words, finding that his ideas--such as they were--were capable of being clothed in so many different suits of verbiage that he had often to put a curb on himself, lest, in the heat and fervor of his fluency, he should impose upon his hearers by giving them the same thought more than twice over.

A proud man was Ephraim when he arose and dressed himself that Sunday morning. For the time being the prickings of his conscience were forgotten, or perhaps it would be better to say that they were thrust remorselessly into the background. At length the opportunity for which he had so often longed had offered itself: to-day he would be able to show of what stuff he was made. Hitherto the majority of his co-religionists had only known from hearsay of the gift that was in him. At length they would be brought directly into contact with it, and would be in a position to judge of it for themselves. Evidently Ephraim Judd was not one of those foolish people who are content to hide their light under a bushel.

Scarcely less elated, in her own quiet, undemonstrative way, was Mrs. Judd, who was a staunch Templetonian. It was far more, from her point of view, that her son should be an eloquent expounder of the tenets of the sect to which they both belonged than that he should be a rising official at Avison's Bank, with a prosperous and assured future stretching clearly before him.

The meeting-house of the Templetonians was filled this morning to repletion. Never had Mr. Hoskins succeeded in gathering round him so numerous a congregation. The news that Ephraim Judd was to discourse had spread in some mysterious way, the consequence being that there was a large influx of strangers belonging to the other sects who were drawn there out of curiosity to hear the rising young local preacher, the fame of whose untutored eloquence had not failed to reach their ears.

When Ephraim, who was seated on the front bench next his mother till the time should come for him to take his place on the platform, glanced round as the first hymn was being given out, his heart swelled within him. All these people had been drawn there to hear him--him! Well, he hoped they would not be disappointed. He was quite aware that the audience of to-day was a far more intelligent and critical one than any he had been in the habit of addressing on Sunday evenings on village greens, and that he would be tested by a very different standard from any which had heretofore been applied to him.

The thought, however, did not daunt him in the least, but tended rather to elate and brace him for the ordeal before him; for Ephraim had a good measure of that audacity, of that thorough belief in himself and his powers, which goes so far towards the achievement of success, whatever may be the line of action on which it is brought to bear.

The portion of the service conducted by John Iredale was brought to a close in due course, and the moment came for Ephraim Judd to take the place of the latter on the platform. A general but decorous movement was discernible among the congregation. Some relieved themselves by coughing, others by blowing their noses, here and there came a putting together of heads and a low whispering. Mrs. Judd gave her son's hand a reassuring squeeze. Then Ephraim rose and mounting the three steps to the platform, he limped slowly across it, his eyes bent on the ground, till he reached the little reading-desk, where he turned to face his audience.

But first he bent his head and covered his face with his hands for a little while, then he stood upright and gazed calmly around. His face was a little paler than common, but his lips were firm-set, and his eyes clear and untroubled. At once he proceeded to give out his text, which he did in quiet but emphatic tones, so that not a word was unheard by anyone there. Then came a brief pause, during which his audience finally settled themselves; and then Ephraim, bending slightly forward, and grasping the ledge of the desk with both hands, began as follows:

"My dear brothers and sisters: we are this morning about to consider, from what to some of you may seem a peculiar standpoint, one of the most vital and all-important questions with which, as thinking and responsible beings, it is competent for us to deal. We are about----"

Here the speaker came to a sudden pause; then, after a momentary hesitation, he began his last sentence again.