trial was to meet and answer the looks and questions of the curious.
For the present he could truthfully say:

"Mrs. Eldred has unexpectedly gone to her mother."

Meanwhile he resigned his charge, much to the sorrow and dismay of
all. He disposed of all the elegant furnishings of the parsonage, and
with haste left the spot that had been the scene of an exquisite
torture. No defined plans were before him, save to get far away from
any who could have had the least knowledge of him previously. No
fugitive from justice ever felt more nervous haste. He pushed on,
never pausing till he reached the very verge of civilisation in the
far south-west. Not that he would be a hermit or misanthrope, but
perchance find a people destitute of the gospel. He would bring it to
them. He must preach Christ till death. This should be his joy and
comfort; henceforth no other love should come between his soul and
his dear Master.

And he found his work, as if an unerring path had been marked out
straight to the little log church in the woods.

While Vida sat in a lofty temple of arches and massive pillars, the
sunlight toned to the appropriate dimness, as it stole through the
stained windows, the same hour her husband stood in the log church of
the wilderness, its arches and pillars outside--the tall old trees
locking arms overhead. Nature softened the fierce rays in this temple
as well, for they filtered through thick green boughs, and flecks of
light fell here and there, a stray one resting halo-like upon the
minister's head, transfiguring him in the eyes of the hungry souls
whose upturned faces drank in the words of life.