"I expected something of this kind to happen, and whether it had happened or no I should have spoken to you on this matter before we separated. I know--you all know--to what Mr. Barron refers--that he is speaking of the anonymous letters concerning myself and others which have been circulated in this neighbourhood. He calls upon me, I understand, to take legal action with regard both to them and to the reports which he has himself circulated, by word of mouth, and probably by letter. Now I want you plainly to understand"--he bent forward, his hands on the table before him, each word clear and resonant--"that I shall take no such action! My reasons I shall not give you. I stand upon my life among you and my character among you all these years. This only I will say to you, my friends and my parishioners: The abominable story told in these letters--the story which Mr. Barron believes, or tries to make himself believe--is untrue. But I will say no more than that--to you, or any one else. And if you are to make legal action on my part a test of whether you will continue to follow me religiously--to accept me as your leader, or no--then my friends, we must part! You must go your way, and I must go mine. There will be still work for me to do; and God knows our hearts--yours and mine." He paused, looking intently into the lines of blanched faces before him. Then he added: "You may wish to discuss this matter. I recognize it as natural you should wish to discuss it. But I shall not discuss it with you. I shall withdraw. Mr. Dawes--will you take the chair?" He beckoned to the colliery manager, who automatically obeyed him. The room broke into a hubbub, men and women pressing round Meynell as he made his way to the door. But he put them aside, gently and cheerfully. "Decide it for yourselves!" he said with his familiar smile. "It is your right." And in another moment, the door had opened and shut, and he was gone. * * * * * He had no sooner disappeared than a tumultuous scene developed in the Church room. Beswick, the sub-agent and local preacher, a sandy-haired, spectacled, and powerfully built man, sprang on to the platform, to the right hand of Dawes, and at last secured silence by a passionate speech in defence of Meynell and in denunciation of the men who in order to ruin him ecclesiastically were spreading these vile tales about him "and a poor lady that has done many a good turn to the folk of this village, and nothing said about it too!"