I heard a heartfelt "praise God," from the direction of Mr. Bowen's
pew, and then there was a gentle rustle in every part of the house, and
scores stood up, Mrs. Flaxman among the rest. The meeting closed quietly,
and in the same solemn hush the people departed.
Mr. Winthrop stood, waiting for the crowd to leave, not seeing the many
curious glances bent our way. Presently the minister was passing our
pew; he paused uncertainly, wishing to speak, I knew from the expression
of his face, but waiting for Mr. Winthrop first to make some sign of
recognition. I stood near enough to reach my hand; my act speedily
followed by Mrs. Flaxman; and then with rare grace and courtesy Mr.
Winthrop extended his hand, saying: "I have to thank you for your very
faithful sermon. I did not know the present generation of preachers dared
talk so plainly to their hearers."
"Perhaps you do not go in the way of hearing them; the race of heroes is
not yet extinct. Not that I reckon myself a hero," he added, with an
amused smile at the slip of tongue.
"The rack and flames are not necessary to prove one a hero or martyr. I
dare say many who do not choose to live for their religion would die for
it if it came in their way to do so."
"Yourself among the number, I believe, Mr. Winthrop," the minister said,
with a penetrating look, that Mr. Winthrop returned in kind.
"I would take it as a favor if you would dine with us some day soon, and
give me an evening of your society. We might have some topics in common
to discuss," Mr.
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