Now, when the Great Meeting came, everything happened precisely as the jolly reporter had foretold—and more. The trembling sinner was arraigned and put upon her defence. Then John Rem rose, tall, and, with a dignity no one thought he had, walked over and took his place at the sinner’s side, and begged that he might be permitted to speak for her. And, being asked by what right he claimed to make her defence, he answered sturdily: “By the right of a husband,” and then went on in a strong and determined voice, “and I hope, sir, that I may take the place—I—” But at that moment John Rem, notwithstanding his experiences, was suddenly in the midst of the most dramatic situation he had ever known. Slowly every head of the three thousand in the hall drooped. He looked backward and forward, right and left, and saw not a face. Only bowed heads he saw—and silence. Not a sound. He heard the ticking of his watch. For the first time in his strenuous life something like terror possessed him. His face actually went pale. “What is it?” he whispered to his wife. “They are praying,” she whispered back. “For us?” “Yes.” “Shall we go?” “No. We must wait until they move.” And so they waited. Five, ten minutes. Yet it seemed an eternity. John Rem had never such need of endurance. The perspiration streamed down his face. The little hand which crept into his grew moist. His watch continued to deafen him. Then, in the front row, a woman’s skirt rustled. Almost he had cried out, “Thank God!” Beyond this one another raised her head. Then a little rustle passed over the vast room. No more. John Rem knew now that, had he looked, every mild eye would be upon him, and not with animadversion. In the prayer they had placed him—her—the whole matter before God. The moderator, facing them, rose and said quietly: “John Rem, thou and thy wife, go in peace. And the blessing of the God of our fathers go with ye. If ye have sinned, repent.” And, shamed and trembling, John Rem got himself and his bride out of that place. On the face of the father of this sudden bride there was a deeper gloom than it bore that day we first saw it in this story. On the face of the gentle proselyte at his side, it must be confessed, there was a fleeting, reminiscent smile.