nd its ample accommodations were rarely strained; but to-night people
were standing up in a black mass by the door. Pastor and congregation
understood each other. An electric thrill passed through the expectant
crowd. The news of Dick Swinton's arrest had been spread broadcast,
despite the promise to the rector. Ormsby and the clerks of the bank,
too, had scattered information. The general question was as to what
course the clergyman would now pursue. He was an exceedingly popular
preacher, and his services were usually well attended. But, to-night, the
people were flocking to St. Botolph's, expecting they knew not what, yet
certain that the rector would not go into the pulpit without making some
reference to the calamity that had befallen him. The whispered disgrace
had become a public record. Would he defend his son against the charges?
All in all, it was a most sensational scandal--one sure to move a
congregation more deeply than the richest oratory.

Everybody knew that the rector's heart was not in his words; for he never
gabbled the prayers and hurried through the service as he was doing
to-night. There was surely something coming. He, like them, was waiting
for the moment when he should ascend the pulpit steps.

For a minute, a wild fury against him arose in the guilty woman's
heart--a bitter sense of humiliation and injustice. And, when she looked
upon the white-robed figure, standing apart from the serried mass of
faces, she understood with a great pang how much he had been alone in the
past twenty-five years, fighting his way through life amid alien
surroundings, dragged down by the burden of her follies. He was walking
to the pulpit now. He had gone out of sight of the congregation, and was
near the window--within three yards of her, so near that she could
almost touch him.

"John! John!" she cried; but her voice was hoarse, and the droning notes
of the organ shut out her appeal.

At the bottom of the steps, he held the rail, and steadied himself. Twice
he faltered. His face was as white as his surplice. He closed his eyes,
and threw back his head, turning his face heavenward; his lips parted,
and he seemed to be on the verge of fainting and falling backward.

She cried out again, and pressed her face close to the window. Her cry
must have penetrated this time, for he looked around in a dazed fashion,
as one who heard a voice from afar. It seemed to stimulate him. With one
hand on his heart and the other