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"But he's a young man, a very boy yet," Amos Judson insisted, unable to hide his disappointment at the minister's answer. The very boy himself walked in at that instant. Judson turned a scowling face at O'mie, who was chuckling among the calicoes, and frowned upon the group as if to ward off any further talk. I nodded good-morning and went to O'mie.
The minister's feet slipped and the next I saw he was standing on his head in his hat, and his legs were sort of wilted and fell limp by his side, and he fell over on his stomach. You talk about spreading the gospel in heathen lands. It is nothing to the way you can spread it with two quarts of soft soap.
Every syllable, every intonation, of the minister's voice is branded on my memory as with a red-hot iron: 'Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance, in the holy estate of matrimony?
His son, who was nearly seventeen, had always been sickly and feeble since birth; the best physicians had been employed, change of climate had been tried, and everything else that promised relief, but of no avail. The best specialists had been consulted, but they gave little hope that hereditary consumption could be cured, for the minister's wife had been similarly afflicted for many years.
The monk is so far a child that the least thing happening in the morning is enough to determine the temper of the day, and as late as the hour for breakfast the house was still rippling with the humour of the Father Minister's misadventure. There was one seat vacant in the refectory Brother Paul's and the Superior was the first to observe it.
That final word came forth with the minister's expiring breath. The multitude, silent till then, broke out in a strange, deep voice of awe and wonder, which could not as yet find utterance save in this murmur that rolled so heavily after the departed spirit.
He turned away his face; but there suddenly rose to his recollection the scornful brow of Audley Egerton, the lofty contempt with which he, then the worshipful Mayor of Screwstown, had been shown out of the minister's office-room; and the blood rushing over his cheeks, he stamped his foot on the floor, and exclaimed angrily, "No; I swore that Audley Egerton should smart for his insolence to me, as sure as my name be Richard Avenel; and all the soft soap in the world will not wash out that oath.
If he could leave such a frivolous, insulting message as that for me it shows plainly that our beautiful hour on the sandshore meant nothing to him and I am not going to think about him or it again. "Fred Arnold was at the manse and walked home with me. He is the new Methodist minister's son and very nice and clever, and would be quite handsome if it were not for his nose.
If you can prove that she is really your wife she may land with you; otherwise, you see, I cannot disobey the minister's orders. "'She is my wife, I said, coolly; 'but as I could not foresee this accident I have no papers to prove the fact. "'I am sorry to hear it, as in that case she must go back to Lisbon. You may be sure I will treat her with all possible respect.
"The Methodist minister's little girl, isn't it? Yes, I will tell him." Mr. Harold looked up impatiently at the interruption. "It's the Methodist minister's little daughter, and she says it is important for her to speak to you privately." "Oh! Probably a message from her father. Bring her in." Mr. Harold was one of the trustees of the Methodist church, and prominent among them.
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