I returned the well worn letter to the unhappy hand from which I had
received it. He tenderly wrapped it about his mother's picture and
thrust the parcel back beside the loyal heart which shared, as it was
bidden, the great sorrow and disgrace.
I then cast about in my mind for the next step which should be taken.
Ordination I knew there could now be none. The pestilence of anger and
shame and sin was upon us all. Dark horror sat upon the faces of the
waiting congregation, their eyes still fixed on these two actors of this
so sudden tragedy. It may have been that the proof of kinship, as
demonstrated by these confronting faces, was finding its way into their
hearts. These faces were still fastened the one upon the other, the
younger with glowing scorn, the older with mingled love and tenderness,
blended with infinite self-reproach.
I could see no course open to me except the dismissal of the
congregation, and so announced my purpose.
"The Kirk Session is adjourned sine die," I said, for this is an ancient
phrase and the proper forms must be observed. Even when our dearest lies
in her coffin, there are certain phrases which announce in cold and
heartless print that the heart's life-blood is flowing from its wound,
and, however sacred that silent form, the undertaker's hands must have
their will with it.
"Moderator." It was Thomas Laidlaw's voice. "Moderator, we hae heard but
ae side. There's aye twa sides. Will ye no' let the accused speak for
himsel'? Fair play is bonny play."
A moment's thought was enough to assure me as to what was right.
"By all means," I answered, sadly enough, for I had but little hope that
any defense could be offered. "Mr. Blake may certainly speak if he
wishes--it is but fair. Have you anything to say, Mr. Blake?"
As I turned towards the older man the younger withdrew his eyes from the
face on which they had so long been fixed, and slowly rising, Angus
walked down the aisle towards the door, conscious that he himself had
proclaimed his bitter shame; but his mother's name seemed written on his
forehead, redeemed by the sacrifice of his own. He had gone but a
quarter of the way or so, when a trembling voice was heard.
"Angus, wait," it said; the voice was faint and tremulous like a
birdling's note--but Angus heard it and stood still. He turned towards
the pew whence it came, and a face met his own, a woman's face, blanched
and pale, except for two burning spots upon her cheeks where the heart
had unfurled its banners. It was a woman's voice, I say, and the eyes
that looked out from it sought his own with a great caress of loyalty
and love. The glowing eyes, and the parted lips, and the quick flowing
breath, all spoke the bridal passion; for the bride's glory is in
surrender, the bodily sacrifice but the pledge of her blended and
surrendered life, lost in another's mastering love.
"Angus, wait," she murmured again, her dainty gloved hand upon the
book-board as she essayed to rise. Her mother sought to restrain her,
but her touch was powerless; for the outgoing tide was at its full.
"He shall not walk down that aisle alone," she faltered to her mother,
the words unheard by others. "We shall go down together."