How they’d worshiped! How they’d praised! Knowing not the form of the event, they sought only a readiness and a unity of spirit. Sister Tess Lawson, so slow to submit, had fallen to her knees to confess her sins. Ready, Lord! Clara, on her knees, had thought then of her friends in distant places, had begged God that He have mercy on them and others who could not be present. “In Him it is always yea!” Giovanni Bruno, too, though silent, had been ever watchful, joining them, she could see, in spirit, trembling faintly as they called in tearful joy upon the Lord. “For the Lord hisself shall come down from heaven above! with a shout! with the voice of the archangel! and with the sound of the trump of God! and the dead in Christ shall rise first!” After ten o’clock! Oh dear God! They sang, they prayed, they read. Brother Gideon stood and broke into inspired prayer, admonishing them to rejoice in the Lord always and in all ways, and to “put on the whole armor of God!” His melodic old voice rose and, falling all to their knees now, they chanted their amens. Clara, in her blur of terror and joy, saw in one brief alarming moment all the frustration and anger of the terrible powers of evil in the glittering eyes of Mrs. Norton — knew suddenly with whom she contended! “And, above all, take up the shield of faith, wherewith ye kin quench all the fiery darts of the evil one! and take the helmet of salvation — yes! and the sword of the Spirit! yes! which is the word of God! Oh sisters! hear me! brothers! pray! Pray at all times! pray in the Spirit! pray in the Glory! pray in the name of Lord Jesus! ‘If ye shall ask,’ He says, ‘if ye shall ask in my name,’ He says, ‘well, that will I do!’ And rejoice! rejoice in the Lord always! I say, rejoice!”
Eleven chimed the wall clock. They sang. “That Old Rugged Cross.” Her daughter Elaine, at her side, lifted her sweet timid voice in courage and pride. “Oh Beulah Land, sweet Beulah Land!” Tears welled in Clara’s eyes. Oh, Ely! Ely! Ezra Gray called for repentance, and Sister Thelma Coates led them in a new wave of confession of love for the Lord Jesus. And Clara read Ely’s message aloud and Giovanni Bruno clapped his hands as though in benediction and even in that hard woman’s eyes the anger dimmed and Elaine called, “Oh Pa! Pa!” and Brother Abner, whom Ely himself had converted and baptized, even Brother Abner joined them then with all his heart. “Behold!” he thundered and they all praised. “The Judge standeth before the door! The coming of the Lord is at hand!” They shouted and wept. “Let the lowly brother boast in his exaltation, and the rich in his humiliation, he will pass away!” And they clapped and cried in unison with him. “Come now, ye rich! Weep and howl for your miseries that are coming upon you!” Perspiration pocked his pale brow and his jowls shook with righteous fury. “Verily, verily, I say unto you, the hour cometh, and now is, when the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of God! And them that hear shall live!” Yes! We shall live! Mercy! “But woe to him who heapeth up what is not his own! him who getteth an evil gain for his house! him that buildeth a town with blood and establisheth a city by iniquity!” Woe! Woe! Yes, Brother Abner! Amen! Clara’s heart leapt: 11:45! “For, I tell you, he shall drink of the wine of the wrath of God!” Oh Lord, save us! Oh Brother Abner, tell us! “And he shall be tormented with fire and brimstone in the presence of the holy angels and in the presence of the Lamb!” Abner paused to breathe and Sarah Baxter’s whimper trickled into the gap: “Have mercy on the children, Lord!” But Abner roared above her: “And the smoke of their torment goeth up forever!” Yes! We shall see it! “And ever!” Repent! Clara felt suddenly a something, a hand, gripping her elbow! Assured now, yet possessed with a holy fear, she turned: but it was only her little Elaine, tears washing down her pale cheeks, bravely smiling—
“But do ye beware, my friends, of false prophets, deceitful workers, disguising themselves as apostles of Christ!”
Clara turned, looked, appalled. The room, as though itself a living body, shocked and terrified, fell silent, its whole breath caught. Abner Baxter stood, shook his head, the red hair wild as a lion’s mane, and glowered down upon her. No doubt: it was she he meant! Something empty and hollow bloomed and began to grow in her. Five minutes remaining still, and what was he—?
“But be not deceived: God is not mocked!”
“Abner!” She could hardly believe it. “Abner, they’s jist five minutes! Don’t close your heart agin the Spirit, Abner!” Her voice was hushed and faltered. “Ely said—”
“I tell you what the Lord says, woman! He says: ‘Woe unto the foolish prophets that follow their own spirit and have not seen nothing!’ Now you listen, Sister Clara! The Lord He has not sent you, and you’ve made all these here people trust in a lie!” He paused, this man blessed by Ely’s love and lifted up by Ely’s blood, paused: for the dread hour was near upon them.
“Who are you to judge another’s gifts?” asked a gentle voice with a calm, a mildness, strange to this awesome hour. With unbelief, Clara saw that it was Mrs. Norton who had spoken.
Abner Baxter glared, astonished, at the little woman by Giovanni Bruno’s bed. “You shall see for yourself!” he bellowed, and taking his wife Sarah brusquely by the arm, he turned to leave the room. At the bedroom door he halted, spun on them once more. “This day shall end and the false prophecy shall be disgraced! Do you hear me? You will be put to shame, Clara Collins, and so will they all who stay here with you!” And, with Sarah, he departed.
Roy and Thelma Coates hesitated just a troubled second, then followed them out of the bedroom. The clock began to strike the hour. “Wait!” Clara cried. “In the name of Christ Jesus, wait!”
But none had waited, not a one. With each throbbing chime of the midnight hour, they had stood and left her, slowly at first, uneasily, lacking conviction, then, as though somehow fearing to be in the house after midnight, more and more hastily, until at the end they were running, the men clumsily light-footed out of their mining boots, the women scraping and clacking their heels across the wooden dining room floor, carrying their coats, Clara running after, pleading, and Abner’s chastisements roaring back at her from the front door like a terrible tide she had to struggle against, until, with the last hollow knock of the hour, she found herself alone, alone and weeping like a child, betrayed, crushed down, and for a long time, as she lapsed lifeless on the sofa, the last peal of the clock echoed and resounded in her head like a mockery of trumpets. Alone. Alone and forsaken in a foreign place. Forsaken even … even by Ely.