It would have been easy, one would suppose, to settle the important controversy by a direct appeal to Hiram Meeker himself.  Strange to say, this does not appear to have been done, both sides fearing, like experienced generals, to risk the result on a single issue.  But numerous were the hints and innuendoes conveyed to him, to which he always gave satisfactory replies—­satisfactory to both parties—­both contending he had, by his answers, confirmed their own particular view of the case.

This state of things could not last forever.  It was brought suddenly to an end one Friday afternoon.

Hiram Meeker was a member, in regular standing, of the Congregational Church in Burnsville.  The Preparatory Lecture, as it is called, that is, the lecture delivered prior to ‘Communion-Sabbath,’ in the church, was always on the previous Friday, at three o’clock P.M.  On a pleasant day toward the end of April, Hiram Meeker and Sarah Burns went in company to attend this lecture.  The exercises were especially interesting.  Several young people, at the close of the services, who had previously been propounded, were examined as to their ‘experience,’ and a vote was separately taken on the admission of each.  This over, the clergyman spoke as follows:  ’Brother Hiram Meeker being about to remove from among us, desires to dissolve his connection with the Congregational church in Burnsville, and requests the usual certificate of membership and good standing.  Is it your pleasure that he receive it?  Those in favor will please to signify it.’  Several ‘right hands’ were held up, and the matter was concluded.  A young man who sat nearly opposite Sarah Burns, observed that on the announcement, her face became very pale.

When the little company of church-members was dismissed, Hiram Meeker and Sarah Burns walked away together as they came.  No, not as they came, as the following conversation will show.

‘Why did you not tell me, Hiram?’

’Because, Sarah, I did not fully decide till the mail came in this very afternoon.  I had only time to speak to Mr. Chase, and there was no opportunity to see you, and I could not tell you about it while we were walking along so happy together.’

Hiram Meeker lied.

Sarah Burns could not disbelieve him; it was not possible Hiram would deceive her, but her heart felt the lie, nevertheless.

Hiram Meeker is the hero of this history.  It is, therefore, necessary to give some account of him previous to his introduction to the reader on the afternoon of the preparatory lecture.  At the date of the commencement of the narrative, he was already twenty-two years old.  He was the youngest of several children.  His father was a highly respectable man, who resided in Hampton, about fifteen miles from Burnsville, and cultivated one of the most valuable farms in the county.  Mr. and Mrs. Meeker both had the reputation of being excellent people.  They were exemplary members of the church, and brought