srdonaldson.thepowerthatpreserves-第5节

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　　　　At　once；　every　head　in　the　audience　dropped。　Covenant；　too；　bowed。　But　the　wound　on　his　forehead　burned　extravagantly　in　that　position。　He　looked　up　again　as　Dr。　Johnson　said；　〃Close　your　eyes；　my　friends。　Shut　out　your　neighbors；　your　children；　your　parents；　your　mate。　Shut　out　every　distraction。　Look　inward；　my　friends。　Look　deep　inside　yourselves；　and　see　the　sickness　there。　Hear　the　voice　of　God　saying；　Thou　art　weighed　in　the　balance；　and　found　wanting。'　Pray　with　me　in　your　hearts。
　　　　〃Dear　holy　Jesus；　Thou　art　our　only　hope。　Only　Thy　Divine　Mercy　can　heal　the　disease　which　riddles　our　courage；　rots　the　fiber　of　our　faith；　dirties　us　in　Thy　sight。　Only　Thou　canst　touch　the　sickness　which　destroys　peace；　and　cure　it。　We　lay　bare　our　hearts　to　Thee；　Lord。　Help　us　to　find　the　courage　for　those　five　difficult；　difficult　words；　'I　believe；　help　my　unbelief！'　Dear　Lord；　please　give　us　the　courage　to　be　healed。〃
　　　　Without　a　break；　he　raised　his　arms　over　the　audience　and　continued；　'　'Do　you　feel　His　spirit；　my　friends？　Do　you　feel　it　in　your　hearts？　Do　you　feel　the　finger　of　His　Righteousness　probing　the　sick　spot　in　your　soul　and　body　？　If　you　do；　e　forward　now；　and　let　me　pray　for　health　with　you。''
　　　　He　bowed　his　head　in　silent　supplication　while　he　waited　for　the　repentant　to　heed　his　call。　But　Covenant　was　already　on　his　way　down　the　aisle。　The　usher　made　a　furtive　movement　to　stop　him；　then　backed　off　as　several　members　of　the　audience　looked　up。　Covenant　stalked　feverishly　the　length　of　the　tent；　climbed　the　rough　wooden　steps　to　the　platform；　and　stopped　facing　Dr。　Johnson。　His　eyes　glistered　as　he　said　in　a　raw　whisper；　〃Help　me。〃
　　　　The　man　was　shorter　than　he　had　appeared　to　be　from　the　audience。　His　black　suit　was　shiny；　and　his　shirt　soiled　from　long　use。　He　had　not　shaved　recently；　stiff；　grizzled　whiskers　roughened　his　jowls　and　cheeks。　His　face　wore　an　uncertain　aspect…almost　an　expression　of　alarm…as　Covenant　confronted　him；　but　he　quickly　masked　it　with　blandness；　and　said　in　a　tone　of　easy　sonority；　〃Help　you；　son？　Only　God　can　help　you。　But　I　will　joyfully　add　my　prayers　to　the　cry　of　any　contrite　heart。〃　He　placed　a　hand　firmly　on　Covenant's　shoulder。　〃Kneel；　son；　and　pray　with　me。　Let's　ask　the　Lord　for　help　together。〃
　　　　Covenant　wanted　to　kneel；　wanted　to　submit　to　the　manding　spell　of　Dr。　Johnson's　hand　and　voice。　But　his　knees　were　locked　with　urgency　and　inanition。　The　pain　in　his　forehead　flamed　like　acid　gnawing　at　his　brain。　He　felt　that　if　he　bent　at　all　he　would　collapse　pletely。　〃Help　me；〃　he　whispered　again。　〃I　can't　stand　it。〃
　　　　Dr。　Johnson's　face　became　stern　at　Covenant's　resistance。　〃Are　you　repentant；　son？〃　he　asked　gravely。　〃Have　you　found　the　sick　spot　of　sin　in　your　soul？　Do　you　truly　ache　for　Almighty　God's　Divine　Mercy？〃
　　　　〃I　am　sick；''　Covenant　responded　as　if　he　were　answering　a　litany。　〃I　have　mitted　crimes。〃
　　　　〃And　do　you　repent？　Can　you　say　those　five　difficult　words　with　all　the　honest　pain　of　your　heart？〃
　　　　Covenant's　jaw　locked　involuntarily。　Through　clenched　teeth；　he　said　as　if　he　were　whimpering；　〃Help　my　unbelief。〃
　　　　〃Son；　that's　not　enough。　You　know　that's　not　enough。〃　Dr。　Johnson's　sternness　changed　to　righteous　judgment。　〃Do　not　dare　to　mock　God。　He　will　cast　you　out　forever。　Do　you　believe？　Do　you　believe　in　God's　own　health？〃
　　　　〃I　do〃…Covenant　struggled　to　move　his　jaw；　but　his　teeth　clung　together　as　if　they　had　been　fused　by　despair…〃I　do　not　believe。〃
　　　　Behind　him；　Matthew　Logan　stopped　singing　his　descant。　The　abrupt　silence　echoed　in　Covenant's　ears　like　ridicule。　Abjectly；　he　breathed；　〃I'm　a　leper。〃
　　　　He　could　tell　by　the　curious；　expectant　faces　in　the　first　rows　of　the　audience　that　the　people　had　not　heard　him；　did　not　recognize　him。　He　was　not　surprised；　he　felt　that　he　had　been　altered　past　all　recognition　by　his　delusions。　And　even　in　his　long…past　days　of　health　he　had　never　been　associated　with　the　more　religious　townspeople。　But　Dr。　Johnson　heard。　His　eyes　bulged　dangerously　in　their　sockets；　and　he　spoke　so　softly　that　his　words　barely　reached　Covenant。　〃I　don't　know　who　put　you　up　to　this　but　you　won't　get　away　with　it。〃
　　　　With　hardly　a　pause；　he　began　speaking　for　the　people　in　the　tent　again。　〃Poor　man；　you're　delirious。　That　cut　is　infected；　and　it's　given　you　a　bad　fever。〃　His　public　voice　was　redolent　with　sympathy。　〃I　grieve　for　you；　son。　But　it　will　take　a　great　power　of　prayer　to　clear　your　mind　so　that　the　voice　of　God　can　reach　you。　Brother　Logan；　would　you　take　this　poor　sick　man　aside　and　pray　with　him？　If　God　blesses　your　efforts　to　lift　his　fever；　he　may　yet　e　to　repentance。〃
　　　　Matthew　Logan's　massive　hands　closed　like　clamps　on　Covenant's　biceps；　The　fingers　ground　into　him　as　if　they　meant　to　crush　his　bones。　He　found　himself　propelled　forward；　almost　carried　down　the　steps　and　along　the　aisle。　Behind　him；　Dr。　Johnson　was　saying；　〃My　friends；　will　you　pray　with　me　for　this　poor　suffering　soul　？　Will　you　sing　and　pray　for　his　healing　with　me？〃
　　　　In　a　covered　whisper；　Matthew　Logan　said　near　Covenant's　ear；　〃We　haven't　taken　the　offering　yet。　If　you　do　anything　else　to　interrupt；　I'll　break　both　your　arms。〃
　　　　〃Don't　touch　me！〃　Covenant　snarled。　The　big　man's　treatment　tapped　a　resource　of　rage　which　had　been　damned　in　him　for　a　long　time。　He　tried　to　struggle　against　Logan's　grasp。　〃Get　your　hands　off　me。〃
　　　　Then　they　reached　the　end　of　the　aisle　and　ducked　under　the　canvas　out　into　the　night。　With　an　effortless　heave；　Brother　Logan　threw　Covenant　from　him。　Covenant　stumbled　and　fell　on　the　bare　dirt　of　the　parade　ground。　When　he　looked　up；　the　big　man　was　standing　with　fists　on　hips　like　a　dark　colossus　between　him　and　the　light　of　the　tent。
　　　　Covenant　climbed　painfully　to　his　feet；　pulled　what　little　dignity　he　could　find　about　his　shoulders；　and　moved　away。
　　　　As　he　shambled　into　the　darkness；　he　heard　the　people　singing；　〃Blessed　Assurance。''　And　a　moment　later；　a　pathetic　childish　voice　cried；　〃Lord；　I'm　lame！　Please　heal　me！〃
　　　　Covenant　dropped　to　his　knees　and　retched　dryly。　Some　time　passed　before　he　could　get　up　again　and　flee　the　cruel　song。
　　　　He　went　homeward　along　the　main　road；　defying　the　townspeople　to　hurt　him　further。　But　all　the　businesses　were　closed；　and　the　street　was　deserted。　He　walked　like　a　flicker　of　darkness　under　the　pale　yellow　streetlamps；　past　the　high；　belittling　giant…heads　on　the　columns　of　the　courthouse…made　his　way　unmolested　out　the　end　of　town　toward　Haven　Farm。
　　　　The　two　miles　to　the　Farm　passed　like　all　his　hikes…measured　out　in　fragments　by　the　rhythm　of　his　strides；　a　scudding；　mechanical　rhythm　like　the　ticking　of　overstressed　clockwork。　The　mainspring　of　his　movement　had　been　wound　too　tight；　it　was　turning　too　fast；　rushing　to　collapse。　But　a　change　had　taken　place　in　the　force　which　drove　him。
　　　　He　had　remembered　hate。
　　　　He　was　spinning　wild　schemes　for　vengeance　in　his　head　when　he　finally　reached　the　long　driveway　leading　into　Haven　Farm。　There　in　the　cold　starlight　he　saw　a　heavy　sack　sitting　by　his　mailbox。　A　moment　passed　before　he　remembered　that　the　sack　contained　food；　the　local　grocery　store　delivered　to　him　twice　a　week　rather　than　face　the　risk　that　he　might　choose　to　do　his　shopping　in　person；　and　yesterday…Wednesday…had　been　one　of　the　delivery　days。　But　he　had　been　so　occupied　with　his　restless　fasting　that　he　had　forgotten。
　　　　He　picked　up　the　sack　without　stopping　to　wonder　why　he　bothered；　and　carried　it　down　the　driveway　toward　his　house。
　　　　But　when　he　looked　into　the　sack　in　the　bright　light　of　his　kitchen；　he　found　he　had　decided　to　eat。　Vengeance　required　strength；　there　was　nothing　he　could　do　to　strike　back　against　his　tormentors　if　he　were　too　weak　to　hold　himself　erect。　He　took　a　package　of　buns　from　the　sack。
　　　　The　wrapping　of　the　buns　had　been　neatly　cut　on　one　side；　but　he　ignored　the　thin　slit。　He　tore　off　the　plastic　and　threw　it　aside。　The　buns　were　dry　and　stiff　from　their　exposure　to　the　air。　He　took　one　and　held　it　in　the　palm　of　his　hand；　gazed　down　at　it　as　if　it　were　a　skull　he　had　robbed　from　some　old　grave。　The　sight　of　the　bread　sickened　him。　Part　of　him　longed　for　the　clean　death　of　starvation；　and　he　felt　that　he　could　not　lift　his　hand；　could　not　plete　his　decision　of　retribution。
　　　　Savagely；　he　jerked　the　bun　to　his　mouth　and　bit　into　it。
　　　　Something　sharp　caught　between　his　lower　lip　and　upper　gum。　Before　he　could　stop　biting；　it　cut　him　deeply。　A　keen　shard　of　pain　stabbed　into　his　face。　Gasping；　he　snatched　back　the　bun。
　　　　It　was　covered　with　blood。　Blood　ran　like　saliva　down　his　chin。
　　　　When　he　tore　open　the　bun　with　his　hands；　he　found　a　tarnished　razor　blade　in　it。
　　　　At　first；　he　was　too　astonished　to　react。　The　rusty　blade　seemed　beyond　prehension；　he　could　hardly　believe　the　blood　that　smeared　his　hands　and　dropped　to　the　floor　from　his　jaw。　Numbly；　he　let　the　bun　fall　from　his　fingers。　Then　he　turned　and　made　his　way　into　the　littered　wreckage　of　his　living　room。
　　　　His　eyes　were　irresistibly　drawn　to　Joan's　picture。　It　lay　faceup　under　the　remains　of　the　coffee　table；　and　the　glass　of　its　frame　was　webbed　with　crack