THE WARNING
"From God's sunny hillside pastures to the gloom and stench of the
slaughter pens."
It happened two weeks to the day after Dan and Miss Farwell met in
Denny's garden.
The Ally had been busy to some purpose. The Ladies' Aid, having reached
the point of declaring that something must be done, did something. The
Elders of Memorial Church, in their official capacity, called on their
pastor.
Dan was in the garden when the Elders came. The Doctor's wife declared
that Dan spent most of his time in the garden now, and that, when there,
he did nothing because that nurse was always helping him. Good Martha
has the fatal gift of telling a bit of news so vividly that it gains
much in the telling.
Miss Farwell was in the garden that afternoon with the minister and so
was Denny, while Grace Conner and Deborah were sitting on the front porch
of the little cottage when the two church fathers passed. Though neither
of the men turned their heads, neither of them failed to see the two
women on the porch and the three friends in the garden.
"For the love of Heaven, look there!" exclaimed Deborah in an excited
whisper. "They're turnin' in at the minister's gate, an' him out there
in the 'taters in his shirt, a-diggin' in the ground an' a-gassin' wid
Denny an' Miss Hope. I misdoubt there's somethin' stirrin' to take thim
to his door the day. I must run an' give him the word."
But Dan had seen and was already on his way to the front gate, drawing
on his coat as he went. From the other side of the street the Doctor
waved his hand to Dan encouragingly as the young man walked hastily down
the sidewalk to overtake the church officials at the front door.
Truly in this denominational hippodrome, odd yoke-fellows are sometimes
set to run together; the efforts of the children of light to equal in
wisdom the children of darkness leading the church to clap its
ecclesiastical harness upon anything that--by flattery, bribes or
intimidation, can be led, coaxed or driven to pull at the particular
congregational chariot to which the tugs are fast! When the people of
Corinth speak of Judge Strong's religion, or his relation to the Memorial
Church they wink--if the Judge is not looking. When Elder Jordan is
mentioned their voices always have a note of respect and true regard.
Elder Strong is always called "The Judge"; Nathaniel Jordan was known far
and wide as "Elder Jordan." Thus does the community, as communities have
a way of doing, touch the heart of the whole matter.
Dan recognized instinctively the difference in the characters of these
two men, yet he had found them always of one mind in all matters of the
church. He felt the subtle antagonism of Judge Strong, though he did not
realize that the reason for it lay in the cunning instinct of a creature
that recognized a natural enemy in all such spirits as his. He felt, too,
the regard and growing appreciation of Elder Jordan. Yet the two
churchmen were in perfect accord in their "brotherly administration."
When the officials met in Dan's study that day, their characters were
unmistakable. That they were both in harness was also clear. The
minister's favorite chair creaked in dismay as the Judge settled his
heavy body, and twisted this way and that in an open effort to inspect
every corner of the apartment with his narrow, suspicious eyes; while
the older churchman sat by the window, studiously observing something
outside. Dan experienced that strange feeling of uneasiness familiar to
every schoolboy when called upon unexpectedly for the private interview
with the teacher. The Elders had never visited him before. It was too
evident that they had come now upon matters of painful importance.
At last Judge Strong's wandering eye came to rest upon Dan's favorite
fishing-rod, that stood in a corner behind a book-case. The young man's
face grew red in spite of him. It was impossible not to feel guilty of
something in the presence of Judge Strong. Even Elder Jordan started as
his brother official's metallic voice rang out, "I see that you follow
in the footsteps of the early disciples in one thing, at least, Brother
Matthews. You go fishing." He gave forth a shrill, cold laugh that--more
than anything else--betrayed the real spirit he laughed to hide.
This remark was characteristic of Judge Strong. On the surface it was
the mild jest of a churchman, whose mind dwelt so habitually on the
sacred Book, that even in his lightest vein he could not but express
himself in terms and allusions of religious significance. Beneath the
surface, his words carried an accusation, a condemnation, a sneer. His
manner was the eager, expectant, self-congratulatory manner of a dog
that has treed something. The Judge's method was skillfully chosen to
give him this advantage: it made his meaning clear while it gave no
possible opening for a reply to the real idea his words conveyed, and
forced his listener to an embarrassed silence of self-condemnation, that
secured the Judge in his assumed position of pious superiority.
Dan forced a smile. He felt that the Judge's laugh demanded it. "Yes,"
he said, "I am scriptural when it comes to fishing. Dr. Oldham and I had
a fine day at Gordon's Mills."
"So I understand," said the other meaningly. "I suppose you and the old
Doctor have some interesting talks on religion?"
It was impossible not to feel the sneering accusation under the words. It
was as impossible to answer. Again Dan's face flushed as he said, "No, we
do not discuss the church very often."
"No?" said the Judge. "I should think you would find him a good subject
to practice on. Perhaps, though, he practices on you, heh?" Again he
laughed.
"Ahem, ahem!" Elder Jordan gave his usual warning. Dan turned to the good
old man with a feeling of relief. At least Nathaniel Jordan's words would
bear their face value. "Perhaps, Brother Strong, we had better tell
Brother Matthews the object of our call."
The Judge leaned back in his chair with the air of one about to be
pleasantly entertained. He waved his hand with a gesture that said as
plainly as words, "All right, Nathaniel, go ahead. I'm here if you need
me, so don't be uneasy! If you find yourself unequal to the task, depend
upon me to help you out."
The minister waited with an expectant air.
"Ahem, ahem! You must not think, Brother Matthews, that there is anything
really wrong because we called. But we, ahem--we thought best to give you
a brotherly warning. I'm sure you will take it in the spirit in which it
is meant."
The Judge stirred uneasily in his chair, bending upon Dan such a look
as--had he been a real judge--he might have cast upon a convicted
criminal. Dan already felt guilty. He signified his assent to the Elder's
statement and Nathaniel proceeded:
"You are a young man, Brother Matthews; I may say a very talented young
man, and we are jealous for your success in this community and, ahem--for
the standing of Memorial Church. Some of our ladies feel--I may say that
we feel that you have been a little, ah--careless about some things of
late. Elder Strong and I know from past experience that a preacher--a
young unmarried preacher cannot be too careful. Not that we have the
least idea that you mean any harm, you know--not the least in the world.
But people will talk and--ahem, ahem!"
Dan's face was a study. He was so clearly mystified by the Elder's
remarks that the good man found his duty even more embarrassing than he
had anticipated.
Then Judge Strong threw a flood of light upon the situation in a
characteristic manner. "That young woman, Grace Conner, has a mighty bad
name in this town; and the other one, her friend the nurse, is a
stranger. She was in my house for a month and--well, some things about
her look mighty queer to me. She hasn't been inside a church since she
came to Corinth. I would be the last man in the world to cast a suspicion
on anyone but--" he finished with a shake of his head, and an expression
of pious doubt on his crafty face that said he could, if he wished, tell
many dark secrets of Miss Farwell's life.
Dan was on his feet instantly, his face flaming and his eyes gleaming
with indignation. "I--" then he checked himself, confused, as--in a
flash--he remembered who these men were and his relation to them in the
church. "I beg your pardon," he finished slowly, and dropped back into
his chair, biting his lips and clenching his big hands in an effort at
self-control.
Elder Jordan broke in nervously. "Ahem, ahem! You understand, Brother
Matthews, that the sisters--that we do not think that you mean any harm,
but your standing in the community, you know, is such that we must shun
every appearance of evil. We, ahem--we felt it our duty to call."
Big Dan, who had never met that spirit, the Ally, knew not how to answer
his masters in the church. He tried to feel that their mission to him was
of grave importance. He was tempted to laugh; their ponderous dignity
seemed so ridiculous.
"Thank you, sir," he at last managed to say, gravely, "I think it is
hardly necessary for me to attempt any explanation." He was still
fighting for self-control and chose his words carefully. "I will consider
this matter." Then he turned the conversation skillfully into other
channels.
When the overseers of the church were gone the young pastor walked the
floor of the room trying to grasp the true significance of the situation.
Gradually the real meaning of the Elders' visit grew upon him. Because
his own life was so big, so broad, because his ideals and ambitions were
so high, so true to the spirit of the Christ whose service he thought he
had entered, he could not believe his senses.
He might have found some shadow of reason, perhaps, for their fears
regarding his friendship for the girl with the bad reputation, had the
circumstances been other than they were, and had he not known who it was
gave Grace Conner her bad name. But that his friendship for Miss Farwell,
whose beautiful ministry was such an example of the spirit of the
Christian religion; and that her care for the poor girl should be so
quickly construed into something evil--his mind positively refused to
entertain the thought. He felt that the visit of his church fathers was
unreal. He was as one dazed by an unpleasant dream.
To come from the pure, wholesome atmosphere of his home and the inspiring
study of the history of the Christian religion, to such a twisted,
distorted, hideous corruption of the church policy and spirit, was, to
Dan, like coming from God's sunny hillside pastures to the gloom and
stench of the slaughter pens. He was stunned by the littleness, the
meanness that had prompted the "kindly warning" of these leaders of the
church.
Slowly he began to see what that spirit might mean to him.
No man of ordinary intelligence could long be in Memorial Church, without
learning that it was ruled by a ring, as truly as any body politic was
ever so ruled. Dan Matthews understood too clearly that his position in
Memorial Church depended upon the "bosses" then in control. And he saw
farther--saw, indeed, that his final success or failure in his chosen
calling depended upon the standing that should be given him by this, his
first charge; depended at the last upon these two men who had shown
themselves, each in his own way, so easily influenced by the low, vicious
tales of a few idle-minded town gossips.
As one in the dark--stepping without warning into a boggy hole--Dan
groped for firmer ground.
As one standing alone in a wide plain sees on the distant horizon the
threat of a gathering storm, and--watching, shudders at the shadow of a
passing cloud, Dan stood--a feeling of loneliness and dread heavy upon
him.
He longed for companionship, for someone to whom he could speak his
heart. But to whom in Corinth could he go? These men who had just
"advised him" were, theoretically, his intimate counselors; to them he
was supposed, and had expected, to look--in his inexperience, for advice
and help. These men, old in the service of the church--how would they
answer his troubled thoughts? He shrugged his shoulders and smiled
grimly. The Doctor? He smiled again.
Dan little dreamed how much that keen old fisherman already knew, from a
skillful baiting of Martha, about the visit of the Elders that afternoon;
while his knowledge of Dan's character from childhood, enabled the
physician to guess more than a little of the thoughts that occupied the
young man pacing the floor of his room. But the Doctor would not do for
the young man that day.
Dan went to the window overlooking the garden. The nurse was still there,
helping crippled Denny with his work. The minister's hoe was leaning
against the big rock, as he had left it when he had caught up his coat.
Should he go down? What would she say if he were to tell her of the
Elders' mission?
Something caused Miss Farwell to look up just then and she saw him. She
beckoned to him playfully, guardedly, like a schoolgirl. Smiling, he
shook his head. He could not go.
More than ever, then, he felt very much alone.