Chapter CCV: Section 15: Thyrsis pledged his word that he would write no more to Mr

Harding; and so they settled down to wait for a reply. But a couple more days passed, and still there came nothing.

Corydon was restless and impatient. “What _can_ he be doing?” she exclaimed. Finally it chanced that Thyrsis had to go to Bellevue upon some errand; and so the two drove into town together, and came upon the solution of the mystery.

On the street they met Mr. Jennings, the high-school principal.

“Good-morning,” said he. “A fine day.” And then, “Have you heard the news about Harding?”

“What news?” asked Thyrsis.

“He’s gone away.”

“Gone away!”

“He’s resigned his pastorate.”

Thyrsis stared at the man, dazed; he felt Corydon beside him give a start. “Resigned his pastorate!” she echoed.

“Yes,” said the other, “just so.”

“But why?”

“We none of us know. We’re at our wits’ end.”

“But--how did you hear it?”

“I’m one of the trustees of the church, and his letter was read last night.”

Thyrsis could not find a word to utter. He sat staring at the man in bewilderment.

“What did he say?” cried Corydon, at last.

“He said that for some time he had been dissatisfied with his work, and felt the need of more study and reflection. It quite took our breath away, for nobody’d had the least idea that anything was wrong.”

“But what’s he going to do?”

“Apparently he’s going abroad,” was the answer--“at least he ordered his mail to be forwarded to an address in Switzerland. And that’s all we know.”

Then, after a few remarks about the spiritual ferment in the churches, the worthy high-school principal went on his way, and left Corydon and Thyrsis in the middle of the street. For a minute or two they sat staring before them as if in a trance; and then suddenly from Thyrsis’ lips there burst a peal of wild laughter. “By the Lord God, he ran away from it!” he cried; and he seized Corydon by the arm and cried again, “He ran away from it!”

“Thyrsis!” exclaimed the other. “Don’t laugh about it!”

“Don’t laugh!” he gasped; and again the convulsion of hilarity swept over him.

But Corydon turned upon him swiftly. “No!” she cried. “Stop! It’s no joke!”

She was staring at him, her eyes wide with consternation and dismay. “Think!” she exclaimed. “He’s given up his career!”

“Yes,” he said, “so it seems.”

“It’s awful!” she cried. “Oh, how _could_ he!”

He saw the way the news affected her, and he made an effort to control himself. “The man simply couldn’t face it,” he said. “He didn’t dare to trust himself. He ran.”

“But Thyrsis!” she exclaimed. “I can’t believe it! He’s given up his whole life-work!”

“He’s fled like Joseph,” said Thyrsis--“leaving his cloak in the hands of the temptress!”

And then, the strain proving too much for him, he began to laugh again. Becoming aware of the stares of some people on the street, he started up the horse, and drove on into the country, where he could be alone, and could give unrestrained expression to the emotions that possessed him.

He imagined the dismay and perplexity of the unhappy clergyman, with his belief in the sacred institution of marriage--and with the vision of Corydon pursuing him all day, and haunting his dreams at night. He imagined him trying to face the interview with the husband--with the terrible, conventionless husband, whose arguments could not be answered. “He simply couldn’t face me! He went the very morning I was coming!”

So he would laugh again; he would laugh until he was so weak that he had to lie back in his seat. “I can’t believe that it’s true!” he exclaimed. “My dear, I think it’s the funniest thing that ever happened since the world began!”

“But Thyrsis!” she protested. “Think what we’ve done to him! The man’s life is wrecked!”

“Nonsense!” said he. “It’s the best thing that could have happened to him. He might have gone on preaching sermons all his life--but now he’s got some ideas to work out. He’ll have time to read books, and to think.”

“But he must be suffering so!” exclaimed Corydon, who could not forget her love, even in the presence of his ribaldry.

“He needs to suffer,” Thyrsis replied. “He may meet some of the radicals over there, and come back with a new point of view.”

But Corydon shook her head. “You don’t know him,” she said. “He couldn’t possibly change. I don’t think I’ll ever hear from him again.”

Thyrsis looked at her and saw that there were tears in her eyes. He put his hand upon hers. “We’ll have to worry through for a while longer, dear,” he said. “Never mind--we’ll manage to make out somehow!”