rned to the quarter whence the voice came. Seeing who it was--a widow
who, with no demureness, had tried without avail to bring Luke Claridge
to her--her lips pressed together in a bitter smile, and she said to her
nephew clearly:

"Patience Spielman hath little hope of thee, David. Hope hath died in
her."

A faint, prim smile passed across the faces of all present, for all knew
Faith's allusion, and it relieved the tension of the past half-hour.
From the first moment David began to speak he had commanded his hearers.
His voice was low and even; but it had also a power which, when put to
sudden quiet use, compelled the hearer to an almost breathless silence,
not so much to the meaning of the words, but to the tone itself, to
the man behind it. His personal force was remarkable. Quiet and pale
ordinarily, his clear russet-brown hair falling in a wave over his
forehead, when roused, he seemed like some delicate engine made to do
great labours. As Faith said to him once, "David, thee looks as though
thee could lift great weights lightly." When roused, his eyes lighted
like a lamp, the whole man seemed to pulsate. He had shocked, awed,
and troubled his listeners. Yet he had held them in his power, and was
master of their minds. The interjections had but given him new means to
defend himself. After Faith had spoken he looked slowly round.

"I am charged with being profane," he said. "I do not remember. But
is there none among you who has not secretly used profane words and,
neither in secret nor openly, has repented? I am charged with drinking.
On one day of my life I drank openly. I did it because something in me
kept crying out, 'Taste and see!' I tasted and saw, and know; and I know
that oblivion, that brief pitiful respite from trouble, which this
evil tincture gives. I drank to know; and I found it lure me into a new
careless joy. The sun seemed brighter, men's faces seemed happier,
the world sang about me, the blood ran swiftly, thoughts swarmed in
my brain. My feet were on the mountains, my hands were on the sails of
great ships; I was a conqueror. I understood the drunkard in the first
withdrawal begotten of this false stimulant. I drank to know. Is there
none among you who has, though it be but once, drunk secretly as I drank
openly? If there be none, then I am condemned."

"Amen," said Elder Fairley's voice from the bench. "In the open way by
the cross-roads I saw a woman. I saw she was in sorrow. I spoke to her