mation. Judith had dared him
to be more man than clergyman. His eyes were fixed on her as he jumped.
There can be no doubt that he went further than he had intended when he
entered the pulpit. But as speech clarifies thought, the very course of
maintaining his new argument strengthened him in it, and his fears and
hesitancies vanished. He left no doubt in other minds, as to his
meaning, as he cleared away the doubts in his own.
Judith, listening in amazement with the rest, realised, as did few, how
characteristic of him it all was. She felt that she could almost trace
the steps which had brought him to this point. Her own attitude had
played a large share, she felt certain. Her doubts had set up doubts in
him. He had tried to dissipate them, and had failed. So far he was quite
like other men. But then he had resolved to tell his congregation that
he had failed. In that he was different. Other men would have waited
longer, have hesitated and put off and pondered, some to the end of
their lives. Not so with Imrie. A resolution once made was turned into
action without delay, be the consequences what they might. The one
outstanding distinction of his nature was his unfailing courage.
The whole procedure, involved and incomprehensible and distressing as
she knew it must appear to most minds, was perfectly clear to her. She
had put questions to him that he could not answer. So he had resolved to
put them, without equivocation or delay, to his congregation. That to
them these questions did not betoken honest doubt, but downright heresy,
was no concern of his. They had to hear, and having heard, they had to
decide what their significance was for him and for them, and for the
relations between them. That he realised quite clearly that he was
jeopardising his professional future, she did not for a moment doubt.
But that realisation, she knew very well, would only confirm him the
more strongly in his purpose.
Suddenly she realised that he was bringing his remarkable sermon to a
close. His voice sank, becoming almost conversational, though it
penetrated to the furthest corner of the church.
It was the closing plea of a lawyer before a jury of his peers. He had
shown what he believed to be the fallacies in their relations to the
Lord Jesus, and the fallacies in his own; he had shown the failure of
the Church, which meant them as well as himself, to live up to its
social significance; he had demonstrated with vivid brutality
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