The instant resolve that, come what might, he would not go down there among them, sprang up ready-made in his mind.
He saw his two companions pass him and descend the pulpit stairs, and their action only hardened his resolution.
If an excuse were needed, he was presiding, and the place to preside in was the pulpit.But he waived in his mind the whole question of an excuse.
After a little, he put his hand over his face, leaning the elbow forward on the reading-desk.The scene below would have thrilled him to the marrow six months--yes, three months ago.
He put a finger across his eyes now, to half shut it out.
The spectacle of these silly young "mourners"--kneeling they knew not why, trembling at they could not tell what, pledging themselves frantically to dogmas and mysteries they knew nothing of, under the influence of a hubbub of outcries as meaningless in their way, and inspiring in much the same way, as the racket of a fife and drum corps--the spectacle saddened and humiliated him now.He was conscious of a dawning sense of shame at being even tacitly responsible for such a thing.
His fancy conjured up the idea of Dr.Ledsmar coming in and beholding this maudlin and unseemly scene, and he felt his face grow hot at the bare thought.
Looking through his fingers, Theron all at once saw something which caught at his breath with a sharp clutch.
Alice had risen from the minister's pew--the most conspicuous one in the church--and was moving down the aisle toward the rail, her uplifted face chalk-like in its whiteness, and her eyes wide-open, looking straight ahead.