Part 27 (1/2)

The evening was somewhat advanced as the Bishop bade the Larkins good-night and made his way over to the Rectory. He found Parson John seated in a deep chair, gazing silently before him. Nellie was sitting near reading, or trying to read. She greeted the Bishop with a bright smile, drew up a chair for him to the pleasant fire, and took his hat and coat.

”Have I kept you up, Nellie?” he asked. ”Your father must be tired.”

”No, no, my Lord,” she replied. ”It is not late yet. But you must be tired.”

”A little, my dear. The day has been somewhat trying.”

From the time he had entered Parson John had kept his eyes fixed full upon the Bishop's face with a mute, questioning look which spoke louder than words. ”What have you found out?” He seemed to be saying. ”What stories have they been telling about me? Who have been my foes and friends?”

”The vestry was converted into quite a court-room to-day,” said the Bishop, reading the questioning look in the parson's face. ”There were certainly several lively scenes, especially when Mrs. Stickles made her appearance.”

”You have reached a conclusion then, I suppose?” and Mr. Westmore leaned eagerly forward.

”No, not yet. I cannot give my decision now. I want to think it carefully over, and shall notify you by letter.”

”I thank you, my Lord, for the trouble you have taken in the matter,” and the parson resumed his former position. ”But I have been thinking deeply since hearing these reports concerning me, and my mind is made up as to the course I shall pursue.”

”Indeed, and in what way?” queried the Bishop.

”To-morrow morning I shall hand to you my resignation of this parish.”

The effect of these words was startling, and Nellie's face went very white as she glanced quickly at her father.

”Do you mean it?” inquired the Bishop.

”Yes, my Lord. I have not come to this decision without much thought, prayer, and struggle. I have been too blind. I forgot how old I am, though G.o.d knows my heart is as young as ever. It's only natural that the people of Glendow should desire a change; a man who will infuse new life into the work, and draw in the wandering and indifferent ones. May G.o.d forgive me that I did not think of it before!”

His head drooped low as he uttered these words, and the pathos of his voice denoted the intensity of his feelings. It was impossible not to be much moved at the figure of this venerable man, this veteran warrior of his church, without one word of complaint, willing to relinquish all, to give up the command to another, that the Master's work might be strengthened. The Bishop was visibly affected, although he endeavoured to conceal his emotion.

”Westmore,” he replied, ”I always believed you to be a n.o.ble man of G.o.d, though I never knew it as I do to-night. But where will you go if you leave Glendow? How will you live?”

”I am not worrying about that. He who has guided me all of these years; He, who has given me strength for the battle, will not forsake me now in my fourth and last watch when I am old and grey-headed. My brother and his wife at Morristown have for years been urging us to pay them a long visit.

We will go to them, and stay there for a time. Perhaps the Master will open to me some door in His vineyard that I may do a little more work ere He take me hence. I have no means of my own, but the parish owes me six months' salary, and no doubt the people will gladly pay it now to be rid of me.”

”Why not sell that farm you purchased?” suggested the Bishop. ”It should bring a fair price, and the money would keep you for some time. I cannot place you on the Superannuated list at present, but there may be a vacancy soon and the money from the sale of the farm will keep you until then.”

”I can't sell the place, my Lord, it is impossible.”

”But you bought it; it is yours.”

”It's not mine to sell! It's not mine to sell!”

The look upon the old man's face and the pathos of his words restrained the Bishop from saying more on the subject.

”And so you think you must go?” he remarked after a painful silence.

”Yes, I see nothing else to do.”

”But remember all have not turned against you. See this list,” and the Bishop handed over the pet.i.tion Mrs. Stickles had given him.