uncovered the bread and the wine and set them out on the Lord's table. But there were few to partake of them. The chancel rail which, in other days, had been filled many times in succession with devout communicants, had room enough now and much to spare to accommodate all who had remained for the passing of the consecrated elements.
Soberly, devoutly, with a tenderness he had never felt before, he performed the office of the communion. It was only at the benediction that his heart and voice again failed him, and the last "Amen" came almost with a sob from his lips.
After the service was ended a few of his friends, men and women, remained to clasp his hand, to inquire about his wound, and to give him sympathy and encouragement. They were those who had stood by him and would still stand by him, even though they saw the church falling into wreck about his feet, because they believed in him and loved him. But not much was said. The feeling on the part of both priest and people was too deep to find ready expression in words. And when they came out into the open air they found that dark clouds had obscured the sun, and that the wind was blowing cold across the flying buttresses of the gray stone church.
As for Ruth Tracy, she could not have done otherwise than absent herself from the morning service. Her cheeks were still burning because of the revelation made to her by Mrs. Farrar, and because of Westgate's disclosure of the gossip of the town. After those things had come the riot with its tragical incidents, the murderous assault on the rector, the scandalous outcry of Mary Bradley. What wonder that she felt the solid ground of faith sinking beneath her feet, and that, frightened and dismayed, she dared not leave her home, and almost feared to look the members of her own household in the face. And what wonder that, in her distress, her mind and heart turned, half-uncon-
