moved by the
ordinary suggestions of the place. Then Trivett played. Mavis's
highly-strung, distraught mind ever, when sick as now, seeking the way
of health, listened intently, devoutly, to the message of the music.
Sorrow was the musician's theme: not individual grief, but the travail
of an aged world. There had been, there was, such an immense
accumulation of anguish that, by comparison with the sum of this, her
own griefs now seemed infinitesimal. Then the organ became eloquent of
the majesty of sorrow. It was of no dumb, almost grateful, resignation
to the will of a Heavenly Father, who imposed suffering upon His erring
children for their ultimate good, of which it spoke. Rather was the
instrument eloquent of the power wielded by a pagan god of pain, before
whose throne was a vast aggregation of torment, to which every human
thing, and particularly loving women, were, by the conditions
consequent on their nature, condemned to contribute. In return for this
inevitable sacrifice, the god of pain bestowed a dignity of mind and
bearing upon his votaries, which set them apart, as though they were
remote from the thoughtless ruck.

While Trivett played, Mavis was eased of some of her pain, her mind
being ever receptive to any message that music might offer. When the
organ stopped, the cold outlines of the church chilled her to the
marrow. The snap occasioned by the shutting up of the instrument seemed
a signal on the part of some invisible inquisitor that her torments
were to recommence. Before Trivett joined her, the sound of the church
clock striking the hour smote her ear with its vibrant, insistent
notes. This reminder of the measuring of time recalled to Mavis the
swift flight, not only of the hours, but of the days and years. It
enabled her dimly to realise the infinitesimal speck upon the chart of
recorded time which even the most prolonged span of individual life
occupied. So fleeting was this stay, that it almost seemed as if it
were a matter of no moment if life should happen to be abbreviated by
untimely death. Whilst the girl's mind thus struggled to alleviate its
pain and to mend the gaps made by the slings and arrows of poignant
grief in its defences, Trivett stumbled downstairs and blundered
against the pews as he approached. Then the two walked home, where
Mavis resumed her lonely vigil beside the ark which contained all that
was mortal of her baby. No matter what further anguish this watch
inflicted, s