The soprano, who had sung a verse of the hymn earlier in the
evening, now undertook "Hear my Prayer." Very beautifully she sang
it.
"Hear my prayer, Oh, God, incline Thine ear, Thyself from my
distresses do not hide . . ."
The voice rose, soaring through the building to meet the
silver stars and the naked cherubs on the ceiling. "The enemy
shouteth . . . The enemy shouteth . . ."
Skeaton sat enraptured. Women let the tears stream down their faces,
men blew their noses.
Once again the voice arose.
"Hear my prayer, Oh, God, incline Thine ear . . ."
It was Maggie's voice, Maggie's cry. From the very heart of the
charlatanism she cried out, appealing to a God who might exist or
no, she could not tell, but who seemed now to be leading her by the
hand. She saw Aunt Anne at St. Dreot's whispering "The Lord is my
Shepherd. He shall lead me . . ."
In a dream she shared in the rest of the ceremony. In a dream she
passed with the others out of the building. The sea air blew about
her; down the promenade she could see the people, she could see the
silver stars in the sky, the faint orange light of the lanterns, the
dim stretch of the sand, and then the grey sea.
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