Of course it was the English portion of the day's services that they attended, in the little, plain, ill-ventilated building. The sermon was so severely doctrinal that they could not follow it very well; while the occasional appeals to the heart, uttered in that high falsetto sing-song, fell with a somewhat unnatural note on the ear. Yet the small congregation listened devoutly—with an occasional sigh. Mary Stanley's attention was not occupied much with the pulpit: she was looking rather at the sad, withered, weather-worn faces of certain of the older people—and thinking what their lot in life had been. She recalled a saying she had heard somewhere in the Black Forest—"The world grows every day harder for us poor folk that are so old;" and she was wondering when her modest, but at least assiduous and sincere, efforts to somewhat better their condition and introduce a measure of cheerfulness into their surroundings would be accepted with a little goodwill. As for the middle-aged and younger men, she was less concerned about them. If they meant to break the windows of Lochgarra House next day, or pillage the garden, or set fire to the kennels, she would stand by and let them do their worst. But she did not think she had deserved such treatment at their hands. When they came out of church again Miss Stanley and her friends lingered awhile, for she wished to intercept the Minister; and eventually Mr. Pettigrew made his appearance. As he approached them, Mr. Pettigrew's gaunt and grey-hued face wore a certain look of apprehension, and he was nervously stroking his long and straggling beard. But Mary received him pleasantly enough.
"How do you do, Mr. Pettigrew?" said she. "I thought I should like to know whether you are going to the gathering to-morrow. If these placards that are scattered about mean anything, it may be necessary for someone who is well acquainted with the people to be present to speak a quieting word; and as you have lent the church for the purposes of the meeting, I suppose you accept a certain responsibility——"
"Oh, no, Miss Stanley, I would not say that," the Minister responded, rather anxiously, "I would not say that. I think it is a wise thing and a just thing that the people should have an opportunity of conferring one with another about their temporal interests; but it is not for me to be a partisan. I would fain see all men's minds contented as regards their worldly affairs, so that they might the more readily turn to their spiritual requirements and needs. Ay. It is hardly for me to give counsel—either the counsel of Ahitophel or the counsel of Hushai the Archite—"
"And so," said Käthchen, striking in (for she had not yet had a chance of opening her mind to Mr. Pettigrew), "you invite these strangers to come here and stir up contention and mischief—you give them your pulpit to preach from—and then you step aside, and wash your hands of all responsibility! I should have thought a minister of the gospel would have been on the side of peace, not on the side of disturbance and riot——"
"Dear me—dear me—it is all a mistake!" the bewildered Minister exclaimed. "I assure ye it is all a mistake. I did not invite them—Mr. Fraser wrote to me—and I thought I was justified in giving them permission—so that all men's minds might be leeberated. Is not that on the side of peace? Let the truth be spoken, though the heavens fall!—it's a noble axiom—a noble axiom. If the message that these people bring with them have not the truth in it, it will perish; if it have the truth in it, it will endure——"
"Yes, that's all very well," said the intrepid Käthchen. "But in the meantime? What's going to happen in the meantime? And if there is a general riot to-morrow, and property destroyed, and people injured—the truth of the message won't mend that. And what do those people know about Lochgarra? How can they know anything? They are coming here merely to incite a lot of ignorant crofters and cottars to break the law; and you lend them your pulpit, so that the people about here will think the church is on their side, even if they should take it into their heads to set fire to Lochgarra House!"
"Dear me!" said the Minister—who had not expected any such attack from this amiable and rather nice-looking young lady, "I hope nothing of the kind will happen."
"At all events, Mr. Pettigrew," said Mary, interposing, "I understand you don't mean to be present at this meeting? You will let those strangers talk whatever inflammatory stuff they choose without any word of protest or caution. Well, I suppose you have the right to decide for yourself. But I mean to go. If they have anything to say against me, I want to hear it. If I have no one to defend me, I must defend myself——"
"Oh, but I beg your pardon, Miss Stanley!" Frank Meredyth broke in. "You are not quite so defenceless—not at all! For my own part, I don't think you ought to go to this meeting—I think it will be unwise and uncalled for; but if you do go, you sha'n't go alone—I will see to that."
And again, after they had left the Minister, and were on their way back to Lochgarra House, he urgently begged her to abandon this enterprise; and her brother joined in, and quite as warmly.