pains of hell gat hold upon me,' she moaned,
heedless of the priest's recitation. Darkness rose like a flood-tide
all round her and she shut her eyes to keep it out, for her will
fought for hope, as her body would have struggled against drowning. It
was no longer a mere question that assailed her, but imminent
destruction itself.

It passed away this first time and she grew calm again. Not to believe
was sin, and against all sin, prayer and steadfast will must be
availing. The will, she had; she could remember many prayers, too, and
say them earnestly, and was thankful for her memory which held orisons
in readiness for every circumstance of daily duty or spiritual life.
From her childhood she had found a gentle delight in the Church's
liturgies and hymns, and now, as she prayed with the forms of language
she had always loved, habit brought back belief to lighten her
darkness. She still felt the bitter cold of the outer night that was
very near her; but she kept it off now, and warmed her poor little
soul in the fervour of her praying till she felt that she was coming
again to life and hope.

She opened her eyes at last and saw that nothing was changed. The
Knight of Malta slept on, as he was to sleep for ever; the priests
knelt motionless before the black altar; their quiet, monotonous
voices went on with the Penitential Psalms as priests had said them
for at least fifteen centuries. Angela listened till she caught the
words and then began to respond again, and once more her thoughts
followed broken threads.

Surely, by all she had been taught, her father was in heaven already.
It was not possible that any human being should obey every written and
unwritten ordinance of his religion more strictly than he had done
ever since she could remember him. He had been severe, almost to
cruelty, but he had been quite as unyieldingly austere in dealing with
himself. He had fasted rigidly, not only when fasts were ordered, but
of his free will when others only abstained, he had never begun a day
without hearing mass nor a week without confession and communion, he
had retired into spiritual retreat in Lent, he had prayed early and
late; in his dealings with men, he had not done to others what he
would not have had them do to him, he had not said of his neighbour
what he would not have said of himself, he had wronged no man; he had
given much to charity and more to the 'imprisoned' head of the Church.
He had so lived that no con