Without a moment's hesitation, Priscilla followed him. She entered the
ante-chapel, sat down on a bench not far from the entrance door, and
when the service began she dropped on her knees and covered her face
with her hands.
The music came to her in soft waves of far-off harmony. The doors
which divided the inner chapel from the outer gave it a faint sound,
as if it were miles away; each note, however, was distinct; no sound
was lost. The boys' voices rose high in the air; they were angelic in
their sweetness. Prissie was incapable, at that moment, of taking in
the meaning of the words she heard, but the lovely sounds comforted
her. The dreadful weight was lifted, or, at least, partially lifted,
from her brain; she felt as if a hand had been laid on her hot, angry
heart; as if a gentle, a very gentle, touch was soothing the sorrow
there.
"I am ready now," said Hammond when the service was over. "Will you
come?"
She rose without a word and went out with him into the quadrangle.
They walked down the High Street.
"Are you going back to St. Benet's?" he asked.
"Oh, no-- oh, no!"
"'Yes,' you mean. I will walk with you as far as the gates."
"I am not going back."
"Pardon me," said Hammond, "you must go back.
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