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 as it surged up inside her she felt an enormous terrified repulsion. She drew her arms in close to her side away from Keith and Jarvis.

Something in that candle &hellip; she was leaning forward—in another moment she felt she would go forward toward it—didn't any one see it? &hellip; anyone?

"Ugh!"

She felt a space beside her and something told her that Jarvis had gasped and sat down very suddenly. . . then she was kneeling and as the flaming monstrance slowly left the altar in the hands of the priest, she heard a great rushing noise in her ears—the crash of the bells was like hammer-blows &hellip; and then in a moment that seemed eternal a great torrent rolled over her heart—there was a shouting there and a lashing as of waves &hellip;

&hellip; She was calling, felt herself calling for Keith, her lips mouthing the words that would not come:

"Keith! Oh, my God! Keith!"

Suddenly she became aware of a new presence, something external, in front of her, consummated and expressed in warm red tracery. Then she knew. It was the window of St. Francis Xavier. Her mind gripped at it, clung to it finally, and she felt herself calling again endlessly, impotently—Keith—Keith!

Then out of a great stillness came a voice:

"Blessed be God."

With a gradual rumble sounded the response rolling heavily through the chapel:

"Blessed be God."