Yes, Brother Ward, if the Jonah in a church was our nearest and dearest--and it don't make no odds--the ship should be saved!" They both rose; a terrible look was dawning in John Ward's face, and, seeing it, the elder's voice sunk to a hurried whisper as he spoke the last words.
"Who is this woman ?" the preacher said hoarsely.
"Sir--sir"-- the elder cried, backing towards the door and raising his hands in front of him, "don't look so,--don't look so, sir!" "Who ?" demanded the other.
"I spoke fer the sake of Alfaretta's soul, and fer the sake of them that's heard her say them things about Tom Davis, provin' there wasn't any punishment for sinners.

Don't look so, preacher!" "Tell me her name!" "Her name--her name?
Oh, you know it, sir, you know it--it's--your wife, preacher." John Ward sprang at the cowering figure of the big elder, and clinched his trembling hands on the man's shoulders, with an inarticulate cry.
"My wife!" he said, between his teeth.

"How dare you speak her name!" He stopped, struggling for breath.
"My duty!" gasped the elder, trying to loosen the trembling fingers--"to her--an' you--an' the church you've starved and neglected, Brother Ward!" John blenched.

Mr.Dean saw his advantage.

"You know your vows when you were ordained here six years ago: do you keep them?
Do you feed your people with spiritual food, or will you neglect them for your wife's sake, and let her example send the souls in your care to endless ruin ?" John had loosened his hold on the elder, and was leaning against the wall, his head bowed upon his breast and his hands knotted together.