The last doubter succumbed on the third Sabbath, when he preached from the warning of Jesus that many would come after him, performing in his name wonders that might deceive, were it possible, even the very elect.  The sermon likened this generation to the people Paul found in Athens, running curiously after any new god; after Christian Science—­which he took the liberty of remarking was neither Christian nor scientific—­or mental science, spiritism, theosophy, clairvoyance, all black arts, straying from the fold of truth into outer darkness—­forgetting that “God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believed therein might not perish, but have everlasting life.”  As this was the sole means of salvation that God had provided, the time was, obviously, one fraught with vital interest to every thinking man.

As a sagacious member of the Board of Trustees remarked, it would hardly have been possible to preach three sermons better calculated, each in its way, to win the approval of St. Antipas.

The call came and was accepted after the signs of due and prayerful consideration.  But as for Nancy, she had left off certain of her wonderings forever.

CHAPTER VII

THERE ENTERETH THE SERPENT OF INAPPRECIATION

For the young rector of St. Antipas there followed swift, rich, high-coloured days—­days in which he might have framed more than one triumphant reply to that poet who questioned why the spirit of mortal should be proud, intimating that it should not be.

Also was the handsome young rector’s parish proud of him; proud of his executive ability as shown in the management of its many organised activities, religious and secular; its Brotherhood of St. Bartholomew, its Men’s Club, Women’s Missionary Association, Guild and Visiting Society, King’s Daughters, Sewing School, Poor Fund, and still others; proud of his decorative personality, his impressive oratory and the modern note in his preaching; proud that its ushers must each Sabbath morning turn away many late-comers.  Indeed, the whole parish had been born to a new spiritual life since that day when the worship at St. Antipas had been kept simple to bareness by a stubborn and perverse reactionary.  In this happier day St. Antipas was known for its advanced ritual, for a service so beautifully enriched that a new spiritual warmth pervaded the entire parish.  The doctrine of the Real Presence was not timidly minced, but preached unequivocally, with dignified boldness.  Also there was a confessional, and the gracious burning of incense.  In short, St. Antipas throve, and the grace of the Holy Ghost palpably took possession of its worshippers.  The church was become the smartest church in the diocese, and its communicants were held to have a tone.

And to these communicants their rector of the flawless pulchritude was a gracious spectacle, not only in the performance of his sacerdotal offices, but on the thoroughfares of the city, where his distinction was not less apparent than back of the chancel rail.