She is my sister; and unless you keep your promise, solemnly made
to her, I will follow you to the end of the earth, and make you the
scorned of men. Mark this well: it is the haunted soul of the hypocrite
that burns him through life; that makes him a very torment to himself."
The stranger returned to the inn, where he paced the room for nearly an
hour, and then retired for the night.
The bells rang on the following morning, and the good women of Nyack
wended their way to and had nearly filled every pew in the church of
great progressive ideas. The choir sung one hymn, and then sung another.
But no pastor came. There was something wrong, evidently. Hope and faith
were enjoined by a few. Some watched the door, others the pulpit.
Whispers succeeded wonder, and murmurs took the place of curiosity. The
church was clearly without a pastor; and what was a church to do under
such circumstances? At length the whole congregation got into a state of
profound agitation. What was the matter? where was the pastor? would'nt
somebody speak? These and similar questions were on every tongue.
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