It was creditable to the good manners of the people that though they held their breath at the critical moment, none of them looked even sideways to the pew where Rochally sat alone; but the minister's eye fell on him from the pulpit, and as he noticed Rochally start and flush, and grow pale, while a look of pain came over his face, the minister became anxious, and began to regret their well-intentioned plot. And when, according to the custom of the kirk, he announced that the aforesaid persons would be ordained this day fortnight, unless “some valid objection to their life and doctrine be stated to the Kirk Session at a meeting to be held for that purpose before the service on Wednesday evening,” and when, even at that distance, he could see Rochally's hand tighten upon the door of his pew and his head fall forward upon his breast for an instant, as if he were in pain, he almost wished that they had not meddled with the secret affairs of a man's life. The minister was not surprised when Rochally did not call at the manse on Monday or Tuesday to say that he could not accept the election, although that was within his power, and he was not surprised, although much grieved, when he saw Rochally standing in the shadow of the trees not far from the vestry where the Kirk Session met. Although he had not the faintest idea of the reason, he was now afraid of what was going to happen, and the elders, as they came in one by one, having passed Rochally, who stood apart among the trees, and gave no sign of recognition, were uneasy, and had a sense of calamity. They knew nothing either, and were not able even to imagine anything; but they also, having seen Rochally and caught a faint glimpse of his face, would fain have burned the nomination papers, and cancelled the whole election.