Nero worshipped all three children with a dark, stubborn, masterful worship. He would endure all three sprawling on his back at once, but if Nicholas went too near the edge of the ravine, he would draw him back by his dress, for somewhere in Nero’s mind there remained a picture of Nicholas shooting downward to the river in the perambulator.
One morning in September, when golden-rod and Michaelmas daisies blazed in bloom about the new church, Adeline and Philip were standing together inside its doors, admiring the effect of the long strip of crimson carpet that extended from where they stood, up the chancel steps to the altar. Every day they came to the church. They had followed each step in its progress. They had a peculiar sense of achievement in it quite different from their feeling about Jalna. Jalna had beauty and some elegance. But here was a plain building with shiny, varnished pews, grey plaster walls and no stained-glass windows to mellow its light. Yet here was to be their spiritual home. Here was the link between them and the unknown forces of creation. Here their children would be baptized, their children married. Here, when their time came, would be read their own burial service. But this last was so distant, so misty in the mysterious future, that the thought of it gave them no pain.
The crimson carpet had put the final touch to the building as a church. It was of excellent quality and had been expensive. But both felt that it was well worth the cost. The fact was, it made the church look holy. It was a glowing pathway from entrance to altar. When the foot touched it, calmness and peace stole upward into the soul. The money for it had been sent by Philip’s sister, Augusta. This evening Adeline would sit down at her writing-bureau and tell her just how imposing it looked.
The Dean had put his hand into his pocket and paid for the organ. It was not a pipe organ. No one would have expected that, but it was of a reliable make and guaranteed to have a sweet tone. It stood to one side of the chancel, the pulpit towering above it. Wilmott had agreed to be organist and was expected that very morning to try it. As for the pulpit, Adeline had paid for that. From the first she had wanted a substantial pulpit. "I don’t like to see the preacher popping up like a jack-in-the-box out of a little pulpit", she had declared. "What he says will go down better if he mounts three steps to say it and is surrounded by massive carving. The same man who carved our newel-post can do it and I’ll foot the bill". There were a few who thought the pulpit was a little too ornate for the church but on the whole it was much admired.
Adeline took Philip by the hand. "Let us go", she said, "and sit in our own pew and see what it feels like".
She led him to the pew they had chosen, directly in front of the pulpit, and they seated themselves decorously but smilingly. The pulpit rose portentously before them, as though already overflowing with sabbatical wisdom.
"Confess now", said Adeline, "I could not have done better in the way of a pulpit".
"My one objection is that I am afraid Pink will feel himself so impressive in it that he will preach too long. He is already inclined that way".
"Then I shall go to sleep and snore".
They heard a step behind them and turning saw Wilmott coming down the aisle. He was carrying a large music-book.
"Here I am!" he said. "Have you waited long?"
They had forgotten he was coming but agreed they had been waiting for some time.
"I have been to the Rectory", said Wilmott, "and Mrs. Pink has given me a hymn-book. I’m rather sorry I promised to play this organ. I don’t feel capable of playing church music properly. But I seem to be the only one willing to attempt it".
"Kate Brent could have", said Adeline, "but she is now a Catholic. Anyhow, I like to see a man at the organ".
"Play the Wedding March", said Philip. "Let’s hear something lively".
"I have not the music". Wilmott seated himself at the organ, opened it and placed the hymn-book on the rack. He remarked, "I admire the red satin behind the fretwork. It’s a pretty organ".
"Yes", agreed Philip. "My brother-in-law donated it, and my sister the carpet".
"I know", said Wilmott. "You are a generous family. Even if I had the money, the community would go churchless for a long while before I should build one".
"That’s not stinginess, James", said Adeline. "It’s prejudice".
"Yes. I’m not sure religion is good for people".
"What could take its place?" asked Philip. "I’ll wager you have nothing to offer".
"Life itself is good".
"Come now, Wilmott, be sensible. A man can’t live by material things alone".
"Then let him gaze at the stars".
"The stars aren’t comfortable on a stormy night. Religion is".
"You had better not let Mr. Pink hear you say such things", put in Adeline, "or he’ll not allow you to play the organ".
"He has heard me on many occasions".
"And doesn’t mind?"
"Not a whit. He is a bland, dyed-in-the-wool Christian, and he is convinced that everyone will eventually come round to his way of thinking".
"And so will you", said Philip. "So will you".
"Perhaps". Wilmott pressed the pedals, touched the keys. He began to play a new hymn that only recently had been translated from the Latin. But Philip and Adeline knew the first verse and sang it through.
Neither Philip nor Adeline considered how extraordinary were these words coming from the green heart of a Canadian woods. They sang them with gusto and at the end Philip exclaimed:
"It is a capital organ".
"I don’t see how you can tell", said Wilmott drily, "singing as you were at the top of your voices".
"Oh, James, you are a cross old thing!" cried Adeline, going to his side.
"Well, you seem to have a service in full swing", came a voice from the door.
It was Dr. Ramsay. He entered and, after inspecting the new acquisitions, said, "Congratulate me. Lydia Busby and I are to be married".
Adeline clapped her hands. "Splendid! I’ve seen it coming. Oh, I am glad!"
"A delightful girl", said Philip. "I congratulate you most sincerely".
Wilmott came forward and added his more guarded felicitations.
"It will be the first ceremony in the church", said the doctor. "We want to be married without delay".
"No", said Philip. "My son’s christening is to be the first".
"And we cannot have him christened", added Adeline, "till my parents arrive from Ireland".
Dr. Ramsay regarded the Whiteoaks truculently. "Do you mean to say that my marriage must be postponed to give way to your child’s christening?"
"I am sorry", said Philip. "But I’m afraid that is so".
"Then you consider that you own this church?" exclaimed Dr. Ramsay, his colour mounting.
"Well, not exactly", said Philip.
"I suppose", said the doctor, "that Lydia and I can be married somewhere else. There is a church at Stead".
"No need to get huffy", said Philip.
"I’m not huffy. I’m simply astonished that I should be asked to postpone my wedding ceremony for the baptism of an infant".