"Mr. Ogden, I'm thinking ye'd better go out and tell them?"
Mr. Ogden hesitated for a moment, and then made answer—
"Don't you think we should begin the proceedings?—that will be the best announcement."
"Very well," said Mr. Fraser; and he rose in his place with a heavy sigh of preparation. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "before coming to local matters, I will ask Mrs. Jackson Noyes to read a paper that she has prepared. Mrs. Noyes has recently completed a two days' trip round the West Highlands in the steamer Dunara Castle; and where she has been unable to land—for the steamer does not give ye much time at any place—she has used her eyes, or her opera-glass, impartially; and what she has seen she has put down. The title of the paper is; 'The Horrible Desolation of the Highlands, as Descried from the Deck of the Dunara.' Would ye get up on the bench, mem?"
This last murmured invitation was addressed to Mrs. Noyes, who rose to her feet, but seemed to shrink from taking up any more prominent position. Indeed, the poor woman looked dreadfully embarrassed; her face was all aflame; instead of proceeding with her paper, she kept glancing helplessly towards the door, whither Mr. Ogden had gone to reconnoitre; and it was clear she could not bring herself to begin without an audience, or, rather, with that small audience that was a hundred times worse than none. And presently Mr. Ogden came back—his face black as thunder. He went up to the precentor's box, and muttered something to the chairman. He returned to the elders' enclosure, and said something to the two ladies—who seemed entirely bewildered. The next moment the four of them had filed out of the church, without a word.
"Well, this is the most astounding thing!" Frank Meredyth exclaimed, when his party had also left their places, and got into the open air. "What is the matter with the people? Not a living soul has come near the place! No wonder the big Parliament-man was in a furious rage!"
But Mary had turned to Kate Glendinning, who had fallen a step or two behind.
"Käthchen," she said, in an undertone, "what is the meaning of all this? I can see perfectly well you know something about it."
For indeed Käthchen was all tremblingly triumphant, and joyous, and also inclined to tears—half-hysterical, in short.
"Mamie—Mamie," she said, between that laughing and crying, "I knew he could do it if he liked—and—and—I thought he would—for your sake—"