Anna of the Five Towns · Chapter 5 (2/2)

A man, and then another, emerged from the vestry door with beaming, happy face. These were saved; they had yielded to Christ’s persuasive invitation. Anna tried to imagine herself converted, or in the process of being converted. She could not. She could only sit moveless, dull, and abject. She did not stir, even when the congregation rose for another hymn. In what did conversion consist? Was it to say the words, “I believe”? She repeated to herself softly, “I believe; I believe.” But nothing happened. Of course she believed. She had never doubted, or dreamed of doubting, that Jesus died on the Cross to save her soul⁠—her soul⁠—from eternal damnation. She was probably unaware that any person in Christendom had doubted that fact so fundamental to her. What, then, was lacking? What was belief? What was faith?

A venerable class-leader came from the vestry, and, slowly climbing the pulpit stairs, whispered in the ear of the revivalist. The latter faced the congregation with a cry of joy. “Lord,” he exclaimed, “we bless Thee that seventeen souls have found Thee! Lord, let the full crop be gathered, for the fields are white unto harvest.” There was an exuberant chorus of praise to God.

The door of the pew was opened gently, and Anna started to see Mrs. Sutton at her side. She at once guessed that Mynors had sent to her this angel of consolation.

“Are you near the light, dear Anna?” Mrs. Sutton began.

Anna searched for an answer. She now sat huddled up in the corner of the pew, her face partially turned towards Mrs. Sutton, who looked mildly into her eyes. “I don’t know,” Anna stammered, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl. A doubt whether the whole affair was not after all absurd flashed through her, and was gone.

“But it is quite simple,” said Mrs. Sutton. “I cannot tell you anything that you do not know. Cast out pride. Cast out pride⁠—that is it. Nothing but earthly pride prevents you from realising the saving power of Christ. You are afraid, Anna, afraid to be humble. Be brave. It is so simple, so easy. If one will but submit.”

Anna said nothing, had nothing to say, was conscious of nothing save excessive discomfort.

“Where do you feel your difficulty to be?” asked Mrs. Sutton.

“I don’t know,” she answered wearily.

“The happiness that awaits you is unspeakable. I have followed Christ for nearly fifty years, and my happiness increases daily. Sometimes I do not know how to contain it all. It surges above all the trials and disappointments of this world. Oh, Anna, if you will but believe!”

The ageing woman’s thin, distinguished face, crowned with abundant grey hair, glistened with love and compassion, and as Anna’s eyes rested upon it Anna felt that here was something tangible, something to lay hold on.

“I think I do believe,” she said weakly.

“You ‘think’? Are you sure? Are you not deceiving yourself? Belief is not with the lips: it is with the heart.”

There was a pause. Mr. Banks could be heard praying.

“I will go home,” Anna whispered at length, “and think it out for myself.”

“Do, my dear girl, and God will help you.”

Mrs. Sutton bent and kissed Anna affectionately, and then hurried away to offer her ministrations elsewhere. As Anna left the chapel, she encountered the chapel-keeper pacing regularly to and fro across the length of the broad steps. In the porch was a notice that cabinet photographs of the revivalist could be purchased on application, at one shilling each.