And men and women wept as he spoke.

President Marsh sat there, his usual erect, handsome, firm, bright self-confident bearing all gone; his head bowed upon his breast, the great tears rolling down his cheeks, unmindful of the fact that never before had he shown outward emotion in a public service.
Edward Norman near by sat with his clear-cut, keen face erect, but his lip trembled and he clutched the end of the pew with a feeling of emotion that struck deep into his knowledge of the truth as Maxwell spoke it.

No man had given or suffered more to influence public opinion that week than Norman.

The thought that the Christian conscience had been aroused too late or too feebly, lay with a weight of accusation upon the heart of the editor.

What if he had begun to do as Jesus would have done, long ago?
Who could tell what might have been accomplished by this time! And up in the choir, Rachel Winslow, with her face bowed on the railing of the oak screen, gave way to a feeling which she had not allowed yet to master her, but it so unfitted her for her part that when Mr.
Maxwell finished and she tried to sing the closing solo after the prayer, her voice broke, and for the first time in her life she was obliged to sit down, sobbing, and unable to go on.
Over the church, in the silence that followed this strange scene, sobs and the noise of weeping arose.