He felt the sledge-hammer blow of their united heart-beat strike
his brain with the pain of a bludgeon.
The agony of fear was now upon him. He saw Van Meter sitting in
the central tier of seats watching him sharply out of his little
half-closed eyes, the incarnate sign of the mortal enmity of
organised wealth, and he must appeal for money.
His great crowd had infinite needs, but much money they did not
have. He thought with hope of the twenty millions of people who
read his sermons on Monday morning, and of a dozen big-hearted men
of wealth he knew in the city, and he was cheered.
He had prepared a most powerful sermon on the text, "The common
people heard Him gladly." He felt they could not resist his appeal.
And yet in spite of himself his gaze would wander back to Van Meter,
drawn by his black eyes as by the charm of an adder.
The Deacon was wondering, as he watched him, what could possibly be
the outcome of this daring insanity. He had been fooled so often by
the power of this athletic dreamer, he feared to predict the end,
though he felt certain what it would be.
The services were unusually impressive. Special music had been
prepared by the choir and rendered magnificently.
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