He had not counted on the conspicuous placing of a noticeable party. He leaned forward with his head in his hands. Instinctively the usual petition moved his lips. But he sat up and gazed before him with blinding realization of his own false attitude. Why had he entered? Again he recalled honest worshippers of the morning, going up worn stones to early service, at length coming forth into sunlight, with rapt or tranquil faces. And about him were the same reverential men and women. Philip Barry's religious feeling had always been emotional rather than spiritual; still he had been born a Catholic. The beauty of impressive ritualism, the mysticism of the "Elevated Cup," moved his esthetic nature. Dreamer that he was, he knew again the power of his inculcated early training. He thought of his mother. Until to-day every tense effort to recall her sympathetic soul had been vain. Now an impalpable presence reproached him--separated him, as it were, from Isabel. In a momentary vision he saw the dear face and form of his lost one. To his imaginative mind, beautiful old hands stretched out to save him from impending disaster; then everything before his eyes became clear, and he sat still, at the foot of the chancel, a condemned man. Something whispered that to be an outcast from his Church would gradually starve his soul. Perhaps he should turn to stone, forget the worth of Isabel's priceless love and devotion--what then? He shuddered at the thought of possible suffering for his wife. Again the congregation knelt. Again he was glad to bow his head. For the first time since his marriage the dread of disappointing Isabel gripped him. That he should have an insatiate longing for something outside of their close relation filled him with terror. No, she must never know. He stood up at the end of familiar prayers, responding silently to the rich voices above in the choir. At the back of the church the monks had begun a Gloria. After all he would be able to control himself. Then suddenly there was mysterious agitation, moving to and fro of priests and officiating brothers. To visiting Protestants the commotion in the chancel was not appalling. Monks passing hither and thither, priests turning splendid vestments to front and back, seemed but part of an impressive service.