Somewhere they began to sing the hymn that had already been
sung that evening, a few voices at first, then more, then all
singing together:
"By the blood, by the blood, by the blood of the Lamb We beseech
Thee!"
Everywhere now women were crying, the Chapel was filled with voices,
sobs, cries and prayers.
Mr. Crashaw stood there, motionless, his arms outstretched.
Maggie did not know what she felt. She seemed deprived of all
sensation on one side, and, on the other, fear and excitement; both
joy and disgust held her. She could not have told any one what her
sensations were; she was trembling from head to foot as though with
cold. But behind everything she had this terror, that at any moment
she might be drawn forward to do something, to give some pledge that
would bind her for all her life. She felt as though some power were
urging her to this, and as though the Chapel and every one in it was
conscious of the struggle.
What might have happened she would never know. She felt a touch on
her sleeve, and, turning round, saw Aunt Anne's eyes looking up at
her out of a face that was so white and the skin of it so tightly
drawn that it was like the face of a dead woman.
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