The Weavers | Page 9

ordinarily, his clear russet-brown hair falling in a wave over his
forehead, when roused, he seemed like some delicate engine made to
do great labours. As Faith said to him once, "David, thee looks as
though thee could lift great weights lightly." When roused, his eyes
lighted like a lamp, the whole man seemed to pulsate. He had shocked,

awed, and troubled his listeners. Yet he had held them in his power,
and was master of their minds. The interjections had but given him new
means to defend himself. After Faith had spoken he looked slowly
round.
"I am charged with being profane," he said. "I do not remember. But is
there none among you who has not secretly used profane words and,
neither in secret nor openly, has repented? I am charged with drinking.
On one day of my life I drank openly. I did it because something in me
kept crying out, 'Taste and see!' I tasted and saw, and know; and I know
that oblivion, that brief pitiful respite from trouble, which this evil
tincture gives. I drank to know; and I found it lure me into a new
careless joy. The sun seemed brighter, men's faces seemed happier, the
world sang about me, the blood ran swiftly, thoughts swarmed in my
brain. My feet were on the mountains, my hands were on the sails of
great ships; I was a conqueror. I understood the drunkard in the first
withdrawal begotten of this false stimulant. I drank to know. Is there
none among you who has, though it be but once, drunk secretly as I
drank openly? If there be none, then I am condemned."
"Amen," said Elder Fairley's voice from the bench. "In the open way by
the cross-roads I saw a woman. I saw she was in sorrow. I spoke to her.
Tears came to her eyes. I took her hand, and we sat down together. Of
the rest I have told you. I kissed her--a stranger. She was comely. And
this I know, that the matter ended by the cross-roads, and that by and
forbidden paths have easy travel. I kissed the woman openly--is there
none among you who has kissed secretly, and has kept the matter
hidden? For him I struck and injured, it was fair. Shall a man be beaten
like a dog? Kimber would have beaten me."
"Wherein has it all profited?" asked the shrill Elder querulously.
"I have knowledge. None shall do these things hereafter but I shall
understand. None shall go venturing, exploring, but I shall pray for
him."
"Thee will break thy heart and thy life exploring," said Luke Claridge
bitterly. Experiment in life he did not understand, and even Benn

Claridge's emigration to far lands had ever seemed to him a monstrous
and amazing thing, though it ended in the making of a great business in
which he himself had prospered, and from which he had now retired.
He suddenly realized that a day of trouble was at hand with this youth
on whom his heart doted, and it tortured him that he could not
understand.
"By none of these things shall I break my life," was David's answer
now.
For a moment he stood still and silent, then all at once he stretched out
his hands to them. "All these things I did were against our faith. I desire
forgiveness. I did them out of my own will; I will take up your
judgment. If there be no more to say, I will make ready to go to old
Soolsby's hut on the hill till the set time be passed."
There was a long silence. Even the shrill Elder's head was buried in his
breast. They were little likely to forego his penalty. There was a gentle
inflexibility in their natures born of long restraint and practised
determination. He must go out into blank silence and banishment until
the first day of winter. Yet, recalcitrant as they held him, their secret
hearts were with him, for there was none of them but had had happy
commerce with him; and they could think of no more bitter punishment
than to be cut off from their own society for three months. They were
satisfied he was being trained back to happiness and honour.
A new turn was given to events, however. The little wizened Elder
Meacham said: "The flute, friend--is it here?"
"I have it here," David answered.
"Let us have music, then."
"To what end?" interjected the shrill Elder.
"He hath averred he can play," drily replied the other. "Let us judge
whether vanity breeds untruth in him."

The furtive brightening of the eyes in the women was represented in the
men by an assumed look of abstraction in most; in others by a bland
assumption of judicial calm. A