"It is a pity you had not done so—that you allowed your sense of duty to be so obscured as to forget what was due alike to me and to your sacred vows."
"But I was very much engaged," pursued John, "with matters that appeared to me of much greater importance than anything relating to my poor self."
"Oh!" exclaimed the rector. "Cease! Cease your pretences! Mr. Marvel, your usefulness is ended. Sign that paper!"
He picked up and held out to him with a tragic air a paper which he had already prepared before John Marvel's arrival. John's mind had for the moment become a blank to some extent under the unexpected attack, and it was a mechanical act by which his eye took in the fact that the paper thrust into his hand was a resignation declaring that it was made on the demand of the rector for reasons stated which rendered it imperative that he sever his connection with that parish.
"I will not sign that paper," said John quietly.
"You will not what?" The rector almost sprang out of his chair.
"I will not sign that paper."
"And pray, why not?"
"Because it places me in the position of acknowledging a charge which, even if true, has not been specifically stated, and which is not true whatever the appearances may be, as I can readily prove."
"Not true?" the rector exclaimed. "Is it not true that you allowed a Jew to speak in your church, in my chapel?"