Mrs. Falchion was sitting very near me, and
though she had worn her veil up at first, as I uncharitably put it then,
to disconcert him, she drew it rather quickly down as his reading
proceeded; but, so far as I could see, she never took her eyes off his
face through the whole service; and, impelled in spite of myself, I
watched her closely. Though Ruth Devlin was sitting not far from her, she
scarcely looked that way.
Evidently the text of the sermon was not chosen that it might have some
association with Phil's death, but there was a kind of simple grandeur,
and certainly cheerful stalwartness, in his interpretation and practical
rendering of the text:
"Who is this that cometh from Edom, with dyed garments from Bozrah?
. . . travelling in the greatness of his strength? I that speak
in righteousness, mighty to save."
A man was talking to men sensibly, directly, quietly. It was impossible
to resist the wholesome eloquence of his temperament; he was a revelation
of humanity: what he said had life.
I said to myself, as I had before, Is it possible that this man ever did
anything unmanly?
After the service, James Devlin--with Ruth--came to Roscoe and myself,
and asked us to lunch at his house.
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