The Blessing of Pan by Lord Dunsany

Author:Lord Dunsany [Dunsany, Lord]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fairy Tales; Folk Tales; Legends & Mythology
ISBN: 9780809530755
Google: CBc-et86iV0C
Amazon: 0809530759
Publisher: Wildside Press
Published: 2003-09-01T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XX

WHAT HETLEY HEARD

IT was a bright Sunday morning, and the Anwrels went down to the church for the morning service. To the few that they met on the way Anwrel said nothing. He saw a few entering the church, and one of the fears that had troubled him flew away. When the vicar came out of the vestry he saw that the church was nearly as full as ever; and at that his hope increased, for he felt, whatever might come of it, that while the habit of coming to church was not overthrown his parish was invaded but not yet conquered. This feeling strengthened the high hopes he had from the conference he was to have with Hetley on Monday.

He preached to them much as he had ever preached, only without those little rises above his own level, that came every now and then, and that always surprised himself whenever they came. He made ample notes but did not write out his sermon, so that at any moment, he never knew when, there might come that ring in his voice, and some finer thought soaring up, above the rest of his theme. But none of these brief exaltations came today, for they come of an inner energy, and that had been all expended on thought and anxiety. He did not preach on the thing against which his heart and mind were struggling: he had thought of it overnight; and had got as far as looking up a text from where the children of Israel had worshipped the golden calf, and, neater still, where all but three bowed down at the sound of the sackbut, psaltery and all manner of instruments. But in the end, still tired by the shock and anxiety, he did not feel he had strength enough to make this open attack on that goat-shaped enemy that was becoming more real to him than the personal Satan to the Salvation Army. So he preached a sermon good and useful enough for any little parish, but drably contrasted with the strange event that had been stirring Wolding. And as he preached he noticed for the first time, although too slight to be sure about, a certain untidiness in his congregation.

When the service was over the vicar met his wife, as he always did, outside the vestry door; and, as always happened, he just fell in with the tail of his departing parishioners. This time it was Mr and Mrs. Duffin. The vicar avoided their eyes and the Duffins avoided his, so that it might have seemed easy for them to go their separate ways. But the vicar felt that this avoidance was wrong, a sin of omission in a vicar, and called up a remark for Duffin, and a remark that, of all the remarks one might make, would be nearest to Duffin’s heart.

“When are you going to cut your hay?” he said.

But Duffin brought back his thoughts as though from a distance.

“Oh, one of these days, sir,” he said.

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