THE BISHOP ACTS
The conference that followed was one of grave apprehensions for the
Reverend McCarthy. Before, he had always looked forward to this occasion
with considerable anxiety. He had usually prepared himself for the
battle that was a rule on such occasions. For thirty-five years he had
not missed a conference; he had never come away in defeat. True, he had
not risen very high, but he had, at least, always been able to hold his
own.
But, for the first time in his long experience, he went to meet this
conference with a feeling in his heart that he would come away defeated.
That he was not to be reappointed Presiding Elder, was a foregone
conclusion, but he entertained doubts about getting the appointment he
had hoped to secure. Ever since the Bishop had paid him the visit, he
had been uncomfortable. When the prelate bade him good-by that day, he
had never been able to get out of his mind the idea that the other had
convicted him in his own heart, and had purposely avoided his company.
It worried him, and he had been losing flesh for two years, therefore he
did not present now the same robust, striking figure as when he had met
the conference heretofore year after year.
And then, moreover, he had been hounded almost to insanity by gossips.
From over all his circuit it was the talk, they brought it to conference
and discussed it freely and did not take the trouble to get out of his
hearing to do so. Nowhere was there, as he well knew, a body that would
have delighted more in his downfall than those brother preachers who met
the conference that year. Always had they been ready to oppose him, but
always before the Bishop had been with him. He had been able by subtle
methods to place himself in the Bishop's favor, but this time that
august individual artfully kept from meeting him directly. Besides, he
had not the conscience to seek him, and he had not been able to meet the
Bishop in the free atmosphere as before.
The charge that he had picked out was very good, and it was convenient
for his needs for many reasons. Of course there were scores of others
after the same charge, but with his old influence he need not have
worried. However, he had not and could not see the Bishop privately long
enough to secure from him a promise. And so he met the conference for
the first time, unsettled as to where he was to preach the ensuing year.
Never had a conference seemed so long as that session. The week wore
slowly away, and he was forced to be aware of the fact that on all sides
they were discussing him, and the fact that he had been sued, and was
likely to be remanded to jail as a result, since no one credited him
with so large a sum as ten thousand dollars. He could see the
unconcealed delight, and the malice that had always been, but which
before he had been able to ignore. Affairs reached such a point until it
was almost a conclusion that it mattered little as to where he was sent,
for he would be unable to fill the pulpit because of the fact that he
would have to go to jail shortly. It nettled him; it broke down his
habitual composure, and it was a relief to him when the conference came
to a close.
And not until the secretary arose to call the various charges and who
had been sent thither, did he know where he was to go. So it was with a
sinking of the heart when his name was reached:
"Reverend McCarthy to Mitchfield!"
"_Reverend McCarthy to Mitchfield!_" was the echo all through the
audience. Impossible! _Reverend McCarthy_, one of the oldest, and
regarded as one of the strongest, one of the ablest ministers to such a
forsaken charge. Indeed they could hardly have sent him to a poorer
charge, to a less dignified place. It seemed incredible, and the rest of
the calls were almost drowned out in the consternation that followed.
Well, it was done. He had been all but silenced, and lowered as much as
the Bishop dared to lower him. That was settled, and he returned to
Chicago without telegraphing the fact to his family.
With resignation he made the necessary preparations for the trip, and
taking Orlean with him, went to the small town. They rented a house, for
the place didn't afford a parsonage, and began the long dreary year that
was to follow. It was his good fortune, however, when the school board
met and decided to separate the Negro children from the whites in the
public schools, that they employed his daughter to teach the colored
pupils for the year. In this way they were able to get along in very
good comfort in the months that followed. So the autumn passed, and also
the winter. Spring came and went, and summer had set in when his
attorney wrote him that the case had been called, to come into Chicago,
and prepare to stand trial in the case of Jean Baptiste, plaintiff,
versus Newton Justine McCarthy, defendant.