"Mary, is it true that Mollie won't come out because of me? Am I
standing in my child's light?"
"I--don't--know. I guess not. Mollie's just a foolish young
girl yet. Never mind--come in."
He followed her dejectedly in, and up the aisle to their pew in
the center of the church. The building was warm and crowded.
The pastor was reading the Bible lesson for the evening. In the
choir, behind him, David Bell saw Mollie's girlish face, tinged
with a troubled seriousness. His own wind-ruddy face and bushy
gray eyebrows worked convulsively with his inward throes. A sigh
that was almost a groan burst from him.
"I'll have to do it," he said to himself in agony.
When several more hymns had been sung, and late arrivals began to
pack the aisles, the evangelist arose. His style for the evening
was the tender, the pleading, the solemn. He modulated his tones
to marvelous sweetness, and sent them thrillingly over the
breathless pews, entangling the hearts and souls of his listeners
in a mesh of subtle emotion. Many of the women began to cry
softly. Fervent amens broke from some of the members. When the
evangelist sat down, after a closing appeal which, in its way,
was a masterpiece, an audible sigh of relieved tension passed
like a wave over the audience.
After prayer the pastor made the usual request that, if any of
those present wished to come out on the side of Christ, they
would signify the wish by rising for a moment in their places.
Pages:
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246