s went up with a flare and Thurston, followed by Mr. Warlock,
entered. It was at that moment that Maggie had a revelation. The faces
around her seemed to be suddenly gathered in front of her, and it was
with a start of surprise that she suddenly realised: "Oh, but they
don't believe in this any more than I do!" The faces around her were
agitated, with odd humble beseeching looks, as though they were
helpless utterly and were hoping that some one would suddenly come and
lead them somewhere that they might be comfortable again and at ease.

There was not to-night, as there had been on other occasions (and
especially during that service that Mr. Crashaw had conducted), any
sign of religious and mystical excitement. The people seemed huddled
together in the cold and draughty place against their will, and the
very fact that the Chapel was only half full chilled the blood. No
drama of exultation here, no band of God's servants gloriously
preparing to meet Him, only the frightened open-mouthed gaze of a
little gathering of servant girls and old maids. That was Maggie's
first impression; then, when the service began, when the first hymn had
been sung and Thurston had stumbled into his extempore prayer. Maggie
found herself caught into a strange companionship with the people
around her. Not now ecstasy nor the excitement of religious fanaticism
nor the superstitious preparation for some awful events--none of these
emotions now lifted her into some strained unnatural sphere--no,
nothing but a strange sympathy and kindness and understanding that she
had never known in all her life before. She felt the hunger, the
passionate appeal: "Oh God come! Prove Thyself! We have waited so long.
We have resisted unbelievers, we have fought our own doubts and
betrayals, give us now a Sign! something by which we may know Thee!"
and with that appeal the conviction in the hearts of almost all present
that nothing would happen, that God would give no sign, that the age of
miracles was past.

"Oh, why did He want to be so definite," she thought. "Why couldn't He
have left them as they were without forcing them to this."

They were sitting down now, and Thurston, with his cheap sense of the
dramatic and false emphasis, was reading from the New Testament. Maggie
looked to where Mr. Warlock was, a little to the right of Thurston, in
his black gown, his head a little lowered, his hands on his lap.

When she saw him she was touched to the very heart.