Hardy was amazed; almost unconsciously he had pictured the grown-up Chris
an angular creature, lean, like her father, and resembling him greatly;
and to find this tall girl, with the face and figure of a battle queen,
tearfully beseeching where in the natural course of events she should
have been commanding haughtily and receiving humble obedience, filled him
with a nervousness he had never known before. Only pride kept him now.

'Say you will go! Say it!'

Harry lowered his head, and remained silent.

'Go now. Your action would pain your mother more than my father's words
have done--I am sure of that.'

The hymn was finished, but Shine read out the last verse once more. His
concern was now obvious, and the congregation was wrought to an
unprecedented pitch. Never had a hymn been so badly sung in that chapel.
It was taken up again without spirit, a few quavering voices carrying it
on regardless of time and tune. Chris had noted Harry's indecision.

'Do not stay and shame yourself. Go, and you will be glad you did not do
this wicked thing. You are going. You will! You will!

He had stooped and seized his hat. He turned without a word or a glance,
and strode from the chapel. The congregation breathed a great sigh, and
as he passed out the chorus swelled into an imposing burst of song--a
paean of triumph, Harry thought.

Through the chapel windows the congregation could see Harry Hardy
striding away in the direction of the line of bush.