THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH
The sermon had begun when Margaret entered the great church of St.
Laurens.It was a huge edifice, far from completed.Churches were not built in a year.The side aisles were roofed, but not the mid aisle nor the chancel; the pillars and arches were pretty perfect, and some of them whitewashed.But only one window in the whole church was glazed; the rest were at present great jagged openings in the outer walls.
But to-day all these uncouth imperfections made the church beautiful.It was a glorious summer afternoon, and the sunshine came broken into marvellous forms through those irregular openings, and played bewitching pranks upon so many broken surfaces.
It streamed through the gaping walls, and clove the dark cool side aisles with rivers of glory, and dazzled and glowed on the white pillars beyond.
And nearly the whole central aisle was chequered with light and shade in broken outlines; the shades seeming cooler and more soothing than ever shade was, and the lights like patches of amber diamond animated with heavenly fire.And above, from west to east the blue sky vaulted the lofty aisle, and seemed quite close.
The sunny caps of the women made a sea of white contrasting exquisitely with that vivid vault of blue.
For the mid aisle, huge as it was, was crammed, yet quite still.
The words and the mellow, gentle, earnest voice of the preacher held them mute.
Margaret stood spellbound at the beauty, the devotion, "the great calm," She got behind a pillar in the north aisle; and there, though she could hardly catch a word, a sweet devotional langour crept over her at the loveliness of the place and the preacher's musical voice; and balmy oil seemed to trickle over the waves in her heart and smooth them.So she leaned against the pillar with eyes half closed, and all seemed soft and dreamy.
She felt it good to be there.
Presently she saw a lady leave an excellent place opposite to get out of the sun, which was indeed pouring on her head from the window.Margaret went round softly but swiftly; and was fortunate enough to get the place.She was now beside a pillar of the south aisle, and not above fifty feet from the preacher.She was at his side, a little behind him, but could hear every word.
Her attention, however, was soon distracted by the shadow of a man's head and shoulders bobbing up and down so drolly she had some ado to keep from smiling.
Yet it was nothing essentially droll.
It was the ***ton digging.
She found that out in a moment by looking behind her, through the window, to whence the shadow came.
Now as she was looking at Jorian Ketel digging, suddenly a tone of the preacher's voice fell upon her ear and her mind so distinctly, it seemed literally to strike her, and make her vibrate inside and out.
Her hand went to her bosom, so strange and sudden was the thrill.
Then she turned round, and looked at the preacher.His back was turned, and nothing visible but his tonsure.She sighed.That tonsure, being all she saw, contradicted the tone effectually.
