Part 36

Yet from the moment that this glance had passed between the husband and the wife, it appeared that a gloom of tragedy settled upon the gathering. Again the congregation sank of itself to awed silence, so intense that a cough, the clearing of a throat, the dropping of a hymn-book into a rack, echoed hollowly. Slight movements took on augmented significance. Thoughts boomed out like words, and looks had all the force of blows.

The polity of All People's was ultra-congregational. The proceedings had the form of order, but were primitive and practical; yet every step, voice, motion, detail, took on an exaggerated sense of the ominous, as if a man's body were on trial instead of merely his soul.

Nor was Elder Burbeck at all approving of Hampstead's manner to-night. The minister had shown again his utter incapacity to appreciate a situation. He was too cool, too unmoved. He had taken a full minute to stand there posing in pretended serenity while he looked the congregation over. From Burbeck's point of view, this manoeuvre was dangerous tactics. There was always some indefinable power in that deep-searching look of Hampstead's. If the man should stand up there and look at these people for ten minutes longer, he might have them all over there palavering about him. He was looking in the gallery now. Well, let him look there as long as he liked. The gallery couldn't vote. Burbeck's own eye wandered into the gallery. On the other side from him, just where the horseshoe curve began to draw in toward the choir loft, sat his son, Rollie.

"Rollie should not be up there," the Elder instructed, turning to an usher. "Go and tell him to come down."

"He says he is with a lady who is not a member," reported the usher on returning.

"Huh?" ejaculated Burbeck, turning a surprised gaze upon the figure of a woman heavily veiled who sat beside his son.

That woman! What sacrilege had impelled his son to bring her here? Had she not wrought ruin enough already? Must she gloat over the shame she had brought upon this congregation and upon the church of the living God? And must his son be the means of her coming? What was that boy thinking of, anyway?

And yet, since Rollie had grown into so fine a figure of a man, his father had come to regard his son and what he chose to do with an indulgence he granted to no one else. He wished the boy would come to church more; he wished he would give more attention to those things to which his father had devoted his life; and yet he could make allowance for him. The young man's environment, his social gifts, his business prospects, all inclined him to another set of associations. Besides, the boy's own character seemed so fine and strong, the sentiments of his heart so truly noble, that the father's iron judgment softened even in the matter of an indiscretion so flagrant as this. He reflected too that for business reasons it was doubtless just as well if Rollie were brought into no prominence in this unpleasant affair. In fact, Elder Burbeck would have been as well satisfied if his son had stayed away altogether.

"It is time to call the meeting to order," suggested Elder Brooks, a pale, nervous man whose eyes were continually consulting the typewritten sheet which he held in his hand.

"Yes, Brother Brooks," agreed Elder Burbeck, advancing to the table below and in front of the pulpit. He was almost directly in front of where Doctor Hampstead sat in his pew.

John noticed that the Elder looked worried and over-anxious. His pouchy cheeks sagged; there were huge wattles of red skin beneath his chin, and his whole countenance had a more than usually apoplectic look.

"Brother Anderson will lead in prayer," announced the Elder in unctuous tones. "Let us stand, please!"

The congregation stood. But Brother Anderson's leadership in prayer could not be deemed very successful. He led as if he himself were lost. His prayer appeared to partake of the nature of an apology to God for what the petitioner hoped was about to be done.

During the length of these whining orisons, the congregation grew impatient. The gallery in spots sat down. The effect of the prayer was in total no more than a dismal thickening of the gloom of tragedy that hung lower and lower over the meeting. Yet once the prayer was ended, Elder Burbeck baldly declared the object of the meeting.

His manner was strained, his voice was harsh and halting, but he began stubbornly and plodded forward doggedly, gradually laboring himself into the hectic fervor of his assumed position as the instrument of God to purge All People's of its pastor.

Yet it was in keeping with the tenseness of the situation that as the emotions of the vehement apostle of the _status quo_ reached their height, his words became rather less florid, and he concluded in sentences of sycophantic calm and tones of solicitous consideration for the feelings of the piece of riff-raff he was about to brush aside with a sweep of his fiery fan.

"There is before us," he assured his audience finally, "no question of the pastor's guilt or innocence of the charges made. The question is one of expediency; as to what is best to do for the good name and the future usefulness of All People's. The Board of Elders, after serious and prayerful consideration," Brother Burbeck's voice whined a little as he said this, "has felt that it was best for the pastor and best for the interest of the church to ask him to resign quietly and immediately. That request has been emphatically declined. It has become our duty, painful as it is," the Elder sighed and twitched his red neck regretfully in his white collar, "to present to the congregation a resolution covering the situation. That resolution the clerk of the church will now read."

But instead of looking at the clerk, the chairman looked at Elder Brooks.

Those typewritten lines, the mere holding of which had given Elder Brooks that sense of importance which it was necessary for him to feel in order to be able to act decisively in a matter like this which went gravely against some of the instincts of his soft nature, were, by him now, with a final and supreme sense of this importance, passed to the clerk of the church, a fat, ageless, colorless looking man who read stolidly that:

Whereas, the pastor of this congregation, John Hampstead, has been held to answer to the Superior Court of this County upon a charge of burglary and has been otherwise involved in public scandal in such manner that he appears either unable or unwilling to establish his innocence; and

Whereas, it is the judgment of this Board that such a situation is one highly detrimental to the causes for which this church exists, and one calculated to bring reproach upon the church and the sacred cause of Christ;

Therefore, be it resolved that the pastoral relation existing between All People's Church and the said John Hampstead be, and now is, immediately dissolved.

"This, brethren," announced Elder Burbeck, with an air of pain that was no doubt real, and a fresh summoning of divine resolution to his aid, "is the recommendation of your official Board. What is your pleasure concerning it?"

"I move its adoption," quavered Elder Brooks.

"I second the motion," Brother Anderson suggested faintly.

"Are you ready for the question?" hinted the ruling Elder.

But a man stood up somewhere over behind Hampstead. "I should like to ask, Brother Burbeck," he inquired, "if that was the unanimous resolution of the Board."

"It was not unanimous," replied the Elder, slightly nettled, "as you know, Brother Hinton. It is a majority resolution. The question is now upon its adoption."

Elder Burbeck swept a suggestive eye over his carefully organized majority, and this time his hint was taken. Calls of "question" arose.

But Hinton remained uncompromisingly upon his feet. He was a tall man and pale, with a high, bone-like brow, a long spiked chin, and gray moustaches that drooped placidly over a balanced mouth.

"I understand that the chair will not attempt to railroad this resolution," he ventured with mild sarcasm.

Elder Burbeck's habitual flush heightened as, after a premonitory rumble in his throat and an enormous effort at self-control, he replied emphatically: "Brother Hinton, the resolution will not be railroaded;" and then added warningly: "To avoid stirring up strife, however, I hope we may vote upon it with as little discussion as possible."

"Yes," admitted Brother Hinton dryly, but still standing his ground. "I think it is perfectly understood that debate where its outcome is pre-determined, is useless. Yet without having consulted the pastor of this church as to my course, I voice the sentiment of many around me in urging him to stand up here as its pastor, as he has a right to do, and as the congregation has a right to ask him to do, and tell us what he thinks should be our course in the premises."

Brother Hinton's was a well balanced mind, and it seemed for a moment that his own manner might inject some coolness into the situation. Indeed, the good Elder Burbeck trembled lest it might, for the fires of purification being up, he wished them to burn, undampened.

Certainly for John Hampstead to stand up there and tell that congregation what to do was the last thing the Elder wanted. Besides, he resented some of Brother Hinton's imputations as disagreeable.

The chairman answered curtly:

"If the pastor did not respect the eldership sufficiently to advise it, I think it can hardly be expected of him to advise the congregation; or that the congregation would take his advice if he gave it."

The face of Hampstead whitened, and his muscles strained in his body.

This was really a mean speech of Elder Burbeck, yet he did not wish to be mean. He meant only to be just--to All People's church. His zeal on the one hand, his prejudgment upon the other, had led him to consider no procedure as proper that did not look immediately to the hurling down of the usurper.

"The pastor is not at issue," he concluded with heat almost unholy. "It is the good name of All People's that is at issue."

The face of Hampstead whitened a little more.

"But," persisted Brother Hinton; "let our pastor make his answer to the charges, that we may determine for ourselves what is the issue."

Enough had been said. John Hampstead stood tall and statue-like in the aisle, with the manner of a man about to speak the very soul out of himself, if need be. Before this manner, Elder Burbeck recoiled a little, as he knew he must, if this man asserted himself. For one despairing moment the good man felt that the cause of righteousness was lost. But something in the manner of the minister himself reassured the Elder. The man's soul went back a little from his eyes,--receded, as it were, like a tide, while he turned toward the congregation and in kindly, patient tones began:

"I cannot speak to charges, Brother Hinton! None are presented against me. It was for this reason that I refused to appear before the eldership. This resolution is not a charge. It is an assault. There is no proposal on the part of this Board to find out if I am guilty of anything. They propose a course which assumes my guilt to be of no importance. I tell you that it is of all importance.

"Perhaps, brethren, I have been too reticent. Perhaps the peculiar circumstances out of which this congregation has grown during the five years of my ministry have made it difficult for all of us to see aright or to act aright in this trying situation. I stand before you to some extent a victim of misplaced confidence in you. I was surprised that the newspapers should inflame public opinion against me. I was surprised that a Court of Justice should hold me to answer for this improbable crime. Yet, during all these, to me, cataclysmic, happenings of the past week, I have looked to the loyalty of this church with an assurance that never wavered; an assurance that in the light of what is happening to-night seems more tragic than anything else. I never had a thought that you would not stand by me, at least until I was found to be guilty."

A note of pathos had crept into the minister's voice. The gallery listened intent and breathless. Elder Burbeck felt an irritation in his throat.

But the minister was continuing:

"Indulging this faith in you, entirely occupied with the many perplexing circumstances of this lamentable affair, I am made now to feel that I neglected you too long.

"I perceive now that your minds, too, were inflamed with suspicion; that well-meaning but mistaken zealots among you have felt called upon to take advantage of the situation to purge the church of my presence.

"Once I saw this movement under way, I felt too hurt to oppose it. It seems to me that it has been done cunningly and calculatingly. No charges have been presented against me; therefore I cannot defend myself; and I will not defend myself. I am only analyzing the situation for you, that what you do may be with open eyes. It is urged that I am not on trial; therefore as a popular tribunal, you cannot go into the details and ascertain the truth for yourselves.

"A hasty decision is demanded; therefore there is no time for the situation to clear and for calm counsel to prevail. Bear in mind that you are called upon to take action quickly, not for my sake as a minister; not for your sake as individuals; but because the good name of this church is alleged to be suffering. Is it not in reality because the vanity of some of the members of this church is suffering?

"If that is so, it is not a reason, my brethren, for hasty action against any man. Surely it is not a reason for hasty action against me. I ask those of you who can remember, to go back, to recall the circumstances under which I became your pastor. You were humble enough then. There was small thought of the good name of this congregation when I sat in the park out there and saw this man nailing a plank across the door. I did not question his good intentions then. I do not question them now. But he is proposing to do the same thing in effect that he did then; to nail God out of His house.

"Oh, not because I am nailed out. You may cast me out, and this church will go on. But if you cast out any brother, even the humblest, wrongfully or for self-righteous reasons, you depart from the spirit of Christ. You should be helping that man instead of hurting him. How much less would you cast out your pastor for the same reason."

"Brother Hampstead!" It was the voice of Elder Burbeck, grating harshly by the forced element of self-restraint in his tones. "You are misapprehending the issue. There is no proposal to cast you out of the congregation. The proposal is merely that you retire from the position of eminence which you occupy, exactly as I might be asked to retire if my own name had been smirched."

"There you are!" ejaculated Hampstead. "'Had been smirched.' Your chairman's phraseology shows that he assumes that my name has been smirched. I deny it. I indignantly reject the specious argument that the action of this church to-night does not amount to a trial. Before the eyes of the world you are finding me guilty. You place upon me a stigma as a minister that will follow wherever I go, the inference of which is unescapable. From the hour when I became the minister of this congregation until now, I have gone about as a servant of the One Master, according to my judgment and my capacity. The point of view of the authors of this resolution seems to be that I have been the servant of this congregation; that I may be hired or discharged, that I am theirs, that I have been working for them. That was a mistake! It is a mistake. I know you have paid me a salary, but I have never felt that it conferred upon me any obligation to you. I thought you gave the money to God, and that he gave it to me, and that with it I was to serve Him and not you. That service was rendered in all good conscience to this hour. Are you now presuming to oust me because I can no longer serve God? Or because you are unwilling for me longer to serve you?

"Your Board has asked me to resign. To resign would be a confession of guilt. I do not feel guilty. I am not guilty. My conscience is clear. Personally, I was never so satisfied that I was doing right as now.

"Sometimes I must have done the wrong thing. Looking back, it seems to me now that sometimes when you approved most heartily, when the public ovations were the loudest, the thing achieved was either of doubtful worth or very transitory. The present case touches fundamental issues. It has to do with one of the most sacred duties of the minister.

"The resolution to which I am entitled from this congregation is a resolution of absolute confidence. There is but one other resolution that could adequately express the situation, and that is the one which is proposed by the Board. If you cannot pass the resolution of confidence, I think that you should pass the one that has been proposed. That is the advice which I have to offer. That is the answer which I make to this unjust, this unchristian assault upon your pastor in the moment when, tried as he has never been tried before, he needs your loyalty and confidence more than he can ever need it again."

Hampstead sat down. He had spoken with far more feeling than he had intended, but he had exhibited much less than he experienced.

Yet the total effect of his words was less happy than his friends had hoped. Instead of appealing to his auditors, he appeared to arraign them. Elder Burbeck was greatly relieved. He saw that this arraignment had antagonized and solidified his own cohorts.

But the tall man with the lofty brow was on his feet again.

"I wish to move," said Brother Hinton, "a resolution such as Doctor Hampstead has suggested; a resolution of sympathy and absolute confidence, and I now do move that this church put itself upon record as sympathizing fully with our pastor in his unpleasant position, and assuring him of our confidence in the unswerving integrity of his character and of our prayers that he may be true to his duty as he sees it. I offer that as a substitute for the resolution before the house."

The resolution was seconded. There was an interval of silence, a feeling that the crucial moment had been reached. Question was called. The substitute was put.

"All in favor of this resolution which you have heard made and with the formal reading of which we will dispense, please stand," proclaimed Elder Burbeck.

There was an uncertain movement. By ones and twos, and then in groups the persons sitting on the Hampstead side of the church rose to their feet, until with few exceptions all were standing.

"The clerk will count."

There was an awkward silence.

"One hundred and sixty-three," the colorless man announced presently.

"All opposed, same sign." Burbeck's adherents arose _en masse_ at the motion of the Elder's arm, which was as involuntary as it was injudicial.

The clerk did not count. It was unnecessary. "The motion is lost," he said to the presiding officer.

"The resolution is lost," announced Elder Burbeck loudly, in tones that quickened with eagerness. "The question now recurs upon the original resolution."

Erect, poised, feeling a sense of elation that he was now to let loose the wrath of God upon a recreant shepherd of the flock, the Elder stood for a moment with his eyes sweeping over the whole congregation, and taking in every detail of the picture; the disheartened, defeated group behind Hampstead, the flushed, determined face of the minister, the defiant blaze in the eyes of the rosy-faced young person by his side,--who was this strange woman, anyway?--and then his own well-marshalled loyal forces, who to-night played the part of the avenging hosts of Jehovah!

Up even into the gallery the Elder's eyes wandered with satisfaction. These galleries should see that All People's would not suffer itself to be put to shame before the world. Something centered his eye for a moment upon Rollie. His son was gazing intently, leaning forward with a hand reached out until it rested on the balcony rail. Then the Elder's eye returned to the lower floor and to the mission now about to be accomplished.

"Are you ready for the question?" he inquired, with forced deliberation, enjoying the suspense before its inevitable outcome of satisfied justice.

"Question! Question!" came the insistent calls.

But now there was something like a movement in the gallery. The old Elder's eye, noting everything, noted that; looking up, he saw that Rollie's seat was empty; but higher up the gallery aisle the young man was visible, making his way quickly toward the stairs. That was right, he was coming down to vote; but he would be too late.

"All in favor of the resolution severing the pastoral relation between All People's Church and John Hampstead will signify by standing."

The Elder rolled the words out sonorously. In his mind they stood for the thunder of divine judgment!

The solid phalanxes upon his left arose as one man and stood while their impressive numbers were this time carefully counted by the clerk. The tally took some time.

"Opposed, the same sign!" The Elder barked out the words like a challenge. Again the straggling group behind Hampstead arose. The minister himself stood up. As a member of the congregation, he had a right to vote, and he would protest to the last this injustice to him, this slander of All People's upon itself.

Mrs. Burbeck could not stand, but raised her hand, so thin and shell-like that it trembled while she held the white palm up to view.

Elder Burbeck saw this and noted with a slight additional sense of shock that Rollie was now beside his mother and standing also to be counted with the Hampstead adherents.

"The resolution is carried," said the clerk to the Elder.

"The resolution--" echoed Burbeck, his voice beginning to gather enormous volume. But when he had got this far, his utterance was arrested by the sudden action of his son, who remained standing in the aisle, with one hand grasping his mother's, and the other outstretched in some sort of appeal to him.

"Father!" the boy whispered hoarsely; "don't announce that vote! Don't announce it!"

This startling interruption appeared to freeze the whole scene fast. The throaty, excited tones of the young man floated to the far corners of the auditorium, and again the sense of some impending terror forced itself deeper into the crowd-consciousness.

"Don't announce it? What do you mean?" ejaculated the father in an irritated and widely audible whisper.

The suddenness of this outbreak and the astounding fact that it should come from his own flesh, had thrown the Elder completely off his stride.

"Because," the young man faltered, his face white, his eyes wild and staring, "because it's wrong!"

The huge dominating figure of a man stood for a moment nonplussed, wondering what hysteria could have overtaken his son; but annoyance and stubborn determination to proceed quickly manifested themselves upon his face.

"Don't, father!" pleaded the young man, advancing down the aisle, "Don't! I've got something I must say!"

By this time, Hampstead, quickly apprehensive, had stepped out from his pew and was seeking to grasp Rollie's arm; but the excited young man avoided him, and standing with one hand still appealing toward his father, and with the other pointing backward toward the minister, he announced with a sudden access of vocal force: "That man is innocent."

The words had a triumphant ring in them that echoed through the auditorium.

"Innocent?"