“Mr. Broad,” he said deliberately, but with much emphasis—you might have heard a pin drop—“the value of the testimony just given depends upon character of the witness. May I ask him to explain how he came by that scar on the back of his hand?”

Mr. Allen remained standing. There was no sign of an answer. He sat down for a moment but still there was no movement. He rose again.

“Mr. Broad, as there is no reply, will you permit me to give the explanation?”

Mr. Thomas Broad then slowly erected himself near the table at which his father was sitting. He held on by it hard, and gulped down half a glass of water which was there. His tallowy face looked more tallowy than ever, and his voice shook most unpleasantly as he was just heard to say that he did not know with what object the question was put—that it—that it—seemed—seemed irrel—irrelev—and these were the last syllables ever heard from the lips of Mr. Thomas in Tanner’s Lane, for he dropped into his seat and apparently fainted. There was great confusion while his recovery was attempted. He was conveyed into the chapel, more water was given him, smelling-salts applied, and in due time he regained his senses; but his father, on his return to the vestry, announced that after what had happened the meeting had perhaps better be adjourned. He felt it impossible to go any further just then. Tanner’s Lane Church, therefore, departed, much musing, and was never again summoned on that business. Mr. Allen had some thoughts of demanding another meeting and a formal acquittal, but the pastor was suddenly struck with paralysis, and although he lingered for nearly two years, he preached no more. So it came to pass that George and his father are on the church books till this day. There was, of course, endless gossip as to the meaning of Mr. Allen’s appeal. Whether George ever knew what it was is more than I can say, but it is certain that Cowfold never knew. Mr. Allen always resolutely repelled all questions, saying that it would be time enough to go further when he was next attacked. The Broads, mother and daughter, asserted that no doubt Thomas had a mark upon the back of his hand, but that it had been caused by a nail in a fence, and that he had fainted through indisposition. This theory, however, was obviously ridiculous, for Mr. Allen’s reference had no meaning if Thomas had met with a simple accident. Mrs. Broad saw that her son’s explanation, greatly as she trusted him, was weak, and at last Thomas, with Christian compunction, admitted that the fence was the palings of the College garden, over which he had once clambered when he was too late for admittance at the College gates. This was true. Mr. Thomas on the very evening of his interview with Pauline, had obtained admission over the palings, had been detected, and there had been an inquiry by the authorities; but the scar, as we know, had another origin. Mrs. Broad was compelled to circulate this story, and accompanied it with many apologies and much regret. It was the sorrow of her life, she said; but, at the same time, she must add that her son was delayed by no fault of his. The President had investigated the matter, and had contented himself with a reprimand. Her friends would understand that Thomas would prefer, under the circumstances, not to visit Cowfold again, and considering her dear husband’s sickness, she could not advise that prosecution of the Allens should be pressed.

Cowfold, however, was not satisfied. Mr. Allen would not, as a man of the world, have thought so much of such an indiscretion. Why was Mr. Thomas late? Cowfold could not endure simple suspense of judgment. Any theory, however wild, is more tolerable than a confession that the facts are not sufficient for a decision, and the common opinion, corroborated, it was declared, by surest testimony, was that Mr. Thomas had been to the theatre. There was not a tittle of evidence to support this story, but everybody was certain it was true. Everybody repeated it, and constant repetition will harden the loosest hearsay into a creed far more unshakable than faith in the law of gravity.

Just before Mr. Broad’s last illness, the secession of the Allens was imitated by about twenty of the younger members of the congregation, who met together on Sunday, under Mr. Allen’s guidance, and worshipped by themselves, each of them in turn making some attempt at an exposition of the Bible and a short address. By the time Mr. Broad died Tanner’s Lane had sunk very low; but when his successor was chosen the seceders exercised their rights, and were strong enough to elect a student fresh from college, who had taken an M.A. degree at the University of London. He preached his first sermon from the text, “I am crucified with Christ,” and told his hearers, with fluent self-confidence, that salvation meant perfect sympathy with Christ—“Not I, but Christ liveth in me;” that the office of Christ was not to reconcile God to man, but man to God; and this is effected in proportion as Christ dwells in us, bringing us more and more into harmony with the Divine. The Atonement is indeed the central doctrine, the pivot of Christianity, but it is an atonement, a making of one mind. To which Tanner’s Lane listened with much wonderment and not without uncomfortable mental disturbance, the elder members complaining particularly that this was not the simple gospel, and that the trumpet gave an uncertain sound. But opposition gradually died out; the meeting-house was rebuilt, and called Latimer Chapel. The afternoon service was dropped and turned into a service for the Sunday-school children; an organ was bought and a choir trained; the minister gave week-day lectures on secular subjects, and became a trustee of the Cowfold charity schools, recently enlarged under a new scheme. He brought home a wife one day who could read German; joined the County Archæological Society, and wrote a paper on the discoveries made when the railway station was built on what was supposed to be an ancient British encampment. For Cowfold was to become an important junction on the new line to the north, and Mr. Bushel’s death had been accelerated by vexation through seeing a survey carried across his own fields.

As for Mrs. Broad and Tryphosa, they left Cowfold and went into Lancashire, to be near uncle Flavel. George, notwithstanding the new doctrine in Latimer Chapel and the improvement in the Cowfold atmosphere, was restless, and before the revolution just described was completed, had been entirely overcome with a desire to emigrate with his child. His father and mother not only did not oppose, but decided to accompany. Mr. Allen had saved money, and though he and his wife were getting on in years, there was nothing in either of them of that subsidence into indifferent sloth which is the great mistake of advancing age. Both were keen in their desire to know the last new thing, eager to recognise the last new truth, forgetful of the past, dwelling in the present, and, consequently, they remained young. They were younger, at any rate, just now than George; and it was his, not exactly melancholy, but lack of zest for life, which mainly induced them so readily to assent to his plans. One bright June morning, therefore, saw them, with their children, on the deck of the Liverpool vessel which was to take them to America. Oh day of days, when after years of limitation, monotony, and embarrassment, we see it all behind us, and face a new future with an illimitable prospect! George once more felt his bosom’s lord sit lightly on his throne; once more felt that the sunlight and blue sky were able to cheer him. So they went away to the West, and we take leave of them.

What became of Zachariah and Pauline? At present I do not know.

The End

London Hodder and Stoughton 1913