"It is important that we should know what those things were. The Church cannot tolerate freedom of speech under her auspices at the burial of the unbaptized dead, nor the unwarranted use of her service at the grave of one who has died scoffing at religion."
"I wish it were in my power to reproduce my words. I should not be ashamed of them, and I am sure they would not condemn me."
The bishop, worried and uncertain, looked anxiously around the room. But, before he could make up his mind what to say or do next, Emberly rose in his place. It was evident that the man was laboring under great excitement, but he spoke, nevertheless, with commendable restraint.
"If the bishop desires," he said, "to know what words were used, I believe we can supply him with that information. The widow of John Bradley is here in the house. I have heard her say on more than one occasion that the words of our rector's brief address at the burial of her husband are indelibly stamped on her memory."
"Can the woman be brought before us?" asked the bishop.
"Without doubt," replied Emberly. "I saw her come in, and I will try to find her." He left the room in search of the desired witness.
It was true that Mary Bradley was in the house. She knew that the bishop was to hear the charges against the rector this night; everybody knew it; charges which, if sustained, would surely result in his humiliation and disgrace. She felt that the one man above all others to whom she owed any gleam of light that had ever fallen across the darkness of her life was in imminent peril. She was torn with anxiety concerning him. The four walls of her home on Factory Hill could not contain her. She found a neighbor's boy for an escort, and started out. Impelled by a
