Part 27 (2/2)
Throughout the pleasant picnic meal, shared with its group of neighbours, the sight of Andy and Jeff with Cliantha and Pendrilla aggravated a dull pain which dragged always in her heart, and when dinner was over and they had packed the basket once more, and set it in the back of the waggon, she left them, to wander by herself on the farther side of Lost Creek, sitting down finally in the shade of a great sourwood, and looking moodily at the water. All afternoon she sat there wrapt in her own emotions, forgetful of time and place. The congregation straggled back into the little log church, and the second service was begun. The preacher's voice came floating out to her softened by distance, and with it the sound of singing; as the meeting drew to its close an occasional more vociferous ”Amen!” or ”Glory!” or ”Praise G.o.d!” made itself heard.
The sun was beginning to slant well from the west when she got suddenly to her feet with the startled realisation that afternoon preaching was over, the people were pouring from the church door, streaming across the green toward the baptising pool. They were in the middle of a hymn.
”Oh, wanderer return--return,”
came their musical tones across the water. The grey-haired old preacher was in the lead, his black coat blowing about him, the congregation spreading out fan-wise as they followed after, Andy and Jeff arm in arm, the half-dozen others who were to be baptised walking with them.
Her fretted, pining spirit had no appreciation left for the appeal of the picture. She gazed, and looked away, and groaned. ”Oh, wanderer return,”
they sang--almost her heart could not bear the words.
She sighed. Ought she to cross the foot-log and be with them when the boys were dipped? But while she hesitated the singers struck up a different hymn, a louder, more militant strain. Brother Bohannon was at the water; he was wading in; he was up to his knees now--up to his waist.
”Send 'em in, Brother Drane,” she heard him call. ”This is about deep enough. That's right--give me the young men first. When the others see them dipped they'll have no fear.”
Elihu Drane took Andy's arm, and another helper laid hold of Jeff.
”Sing--sing brethren and sisters,” admonished the preacher. ”Make a joyful noise unto the Lord. This is the time for Hallelujahs. Ef ye don't sing now, when will ye ever?”
Andy spoke low in the elder's ear, whereupon he was released, and turned to his brother; hand-in-hand the two stepped into the water alone. Judith saw the pale, boyish faces, strangely refined by the exaltation of spirit which was upon them, as the twins waded out toward the preacher. Bohannon called to Jeff, shook hands with him, shouted, ”Praise G.o.d, brother.
Glory! Glory! Now--make yo'se'f right stiff. Let me have ye. Don't be scared. I won't drop ye. I've baptised a many before you was born, son.”
His right hand was lifted dripping above the dark head. ”I baptise ye, Thomas Jefferson Turrentine, in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost, Amen.”
”Amen--Amen!” came the deep chorus from the bank, the high, plaintive women's voices undertoned by the masculine ba.s.s.
The black coat sleeve went around the white-clad shoulders, the preacher dropped his new convert gently backward into the s.h.i.+ning water, dipped him, and Jeff who was not an excellent swimmer for nothing, came up quiet, smiling, and stood aside to wait for his brother.
”Sing--sing!” cried the preacher. ”Here goes another soul on its way to glory,” and he reached forth to take Andy. A moment later he sent him, drenched, but washed clean of his sins, so far as mountain belief goes, after his twin. The hallelujahs burst forth to greet the boys: joyful shouts, amens, and some sobbing when, hand-in-hand--even as they had gone in--they came up out of the water.
”Mighty pretty to look at, ain't it?” said a voice at Judith's shoulder.
She turned to find Blatch Turrentine standing behind her.
”I reckon Andy and Jeff is goin' to be regular little prayin' Sammies from this out,” jeered the newcomer.
”Granny Lusk has given her consent for them and the gals to be wedded,”
remarked Judith softly. To her--and perhaps to Cliantha and Pendrilla also--the main importance of the twins' conversion was in this permission, which had been withheld so long as they were wild and had a bad name.
”I heared of another weddin' that might interest ye,” Blatch insinuated.
”Want to come and walk a piece over by the Big Spring, Judy?”
Judith turned uncertainly. The boys had pa.s.sed on up to the sheds to get on dry clothing. It was nearly time for her to be going back to the waggon. Bohannon was dipping Doss Provine's sister Luna. A group of trembling, tearful candidates, mostly young girls, were being heartened and encouraged for the ordeal by the helpers on the bank.
”Tell me here--cain't ye?” she said listlessly.
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