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And he stopped. To hear ould Gellin' arrit
Was good! he had every word, like a parrot—
Stopped a minute, did Cain; and the fashion
Of his face was changed, Gellin' said; no passion,
No love nor hatred to be seen;
But just the cunning of a fiend—
Cunning. And then he says—“The occasion
Was seemin' to want an explanation:
And now ye have it,” he says. “But still,
If you're only convinced against your will,
If this meetin' isn' satisfied,
Then,” he says, “I wouldn' divide
A Christian body,” he says; “no, no!
I can go,” he says, “and I'm willin' to go.
But,” he says, “I'll always be jealous
Over you with love: no malice
Has place in my heart, but only a yearnin'
In the bowels of the Gospel for them that's returnin'
Evil for good. But—no more of that.
One thing,” he says, “I musn' forget—
It's a matter of business,” he says, “I fear,
But better perhaps to have everythin' clear.
I'd be very sorry, certainly,
To give any truouble to the Cömmîtteë,
Or the congregation in general,
Very sorry: but—still for all—
There's certain moneys; and it's handy, rather,
For the man and the money to go together—
So no doubt you'll be makin' arrangements for payin'
The mortgages on the chapel,” says Cain,
“With all the interest that's owin',
For I think there'll be foreclosin' goin'.
But I'd better give you a day or two
To think about it—that'll do,”
Says Cain, “Good evenin'!” And takes
His hat, and a smooth of the elber, and makes
For the door.