Maggie, watching
him, wondered what those thoughts were. His voice was ugly, as were
all his movements; his sharp actor's face, with the long rather
dirty black hair, the hooked nose, the long dirty fingers which
moved in and out as though they worked of themselves--all these
things were false and unmoving. But behind his harsh voice, gross
accent and melodramatic tone there was some power, the power of a
man ambitious, ruthless, scornful, self-confident. He did not care a
snap of his fingers for his congregation, he laughed at their
beliefs, he made use of their credulity.
"Oh God," he prayed, his voice now shrill and quivering and just out
of tune, so that it jarred every nerve in Maggie's body, "Thou seest
what we are, miserable sinners not worthy of Thy care or goodness,
sunk deep in the mire of evil living and evil 'abits, nevertheless,
oh God, we, knowing Thy loving 'eart towards Thy sinful servants, do
pray Thee that Thou wilt give us Thy blessing before we leave this
Thy 'ouse this night; a new contrite 'eart is what we beg of Thee,
that we may go out into this evil world taught by Thee to search out
our ways and improve our thoughts, caring for nothing but Thee,
following in Thy footsteps and making ready for Thy immediate
Coming, which will be in Thine own good time and according to Thy
will.
Pages:
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295