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Updated: May 20, 2025
Ann went home, as she had come, in the canoe, except that she had gone out in the dead of night and she went home in broad daylight. No one blamed Ann when they knew she had gone out to help her father; no one smiled or sneered when they found that she had succeeded in saving Toyner's life. A few days passed, and poor Markham was found drowned in a forest pool.
"What is it, my brother?" asked the preacher. He too had risen and stood with his hand on Toyner's shoulder. They were alone together, these two. The great crowd of the congregation had already gone away; those that remained were each one so intensely occupied with prayer or adoration that they paid no heed to others. "I feel light," said Toyner.
There isn't much of God in me that I can see." "I'll tell you how it is if I can." Toyner's voice had a strange rest and calm in it. He spoke as a man who looked at some inward source of peace, trying to describe it.
There was a Scotch minister who, with the people of his congregation, had received and befriended the reformed man; but because of Toyner's desire to follow the most divine example, and also because of his love to Ann Markham, he chose the other companionship. It was a high ideal; something warred against it which he could not understand, and his patience brought forth no mutual love.
Ann started up with one swift look of agonised entreaty, and then it seemed that what she had seen vanished, for she turned to Bart trembling, unable to speak at first, sobs struggling with her breath. "It was father I saw him come to the door and come in. He's dead now." "What did he look like?" Toyner's voice was very quiet.
He had, in fact, been his greatest enemy; but that, according to Toyner's new notions, was the more reason for counting him a friend, not the less. "Well, I grant 'tain't a very grand sort of business being constable," he said; "to be a preacher 'ud be finer perhaps; but this came to hand and seemed the thing for me to do.
I was left alone to enter Mr. Toyner's gates. I found myself in a large pleasure-ground, where Nature had been guided, not curtailed, in her work. I was walking upon a winding drive, walled on either side by a wild irregular line of shrubs, where the delicate forms of acacias and crab-apples lifted themselves high in comparison to the lower lilac and elderberry-bushes.
It was a strenuous life of prayer and self-denial that these two lived until their race in this phase of things was run. It is with this abrupt note of personal observation and reflection that the schoolmaster's manuscript ends. He had evidently become one of Toyner's disciples.
In the days when there were not many people in Fentown Falls, and when much money was made by the lumber trade, Bartholomew Toyner's father grew rich. He was a Scotchman, not without some education, and was ambitious for his son; but he was a hard, ill-tempered man, and consequently neither his example nor his precepts carried any weight whatever with the son when he was grown.
When six months had passed away, Toyner had gained with his neighbours a character for austerity in his personal habits and constant companionship with the rough and the poor. The post of constable fell vacant; Toyner's father had been constable in his youth; Toyner was offered the post now, and he took it.
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