THE MORNING WATCH
161
mere thought, he knew
his
contemptible silliness. But God of course
knew, and Christ Himself, even now when the Son was suffering
and the Father, grieving that He might not take the Cup from Him,
was hovering in love and sorrow, yes, engulfed, enchanted in woe
though they were, They knew very clearly though, it now occurred
to
him,
his
secret was safe with Them. In insupportable self-loathing
he squeezed his eyes so tightly shut that they ached, and dug his
chin as tightly against
his
throat as it would lock and in blind vertigo,
scarcely knowing his action, struck himself heavily upon his breast–
bone, groaning within
his
soul,
the burden of them is intolerable.
With the second blow he realized, in gratitude and in a new flower–
ing of vainglory, that he had been surprised into contrition so true
and so deep that beside
it
every moment of contrition he had ever
known before seemed trivial, even false, and for an instant he
questioned the validity of every Absolution he had ever been granted.
Yet almost before this question could take form, and even while his
fIst was preparing its third assault against his inordinate heart, this
new doubt was supplanted by a recognition that
his
action was con–
spicuous and that it must seem to others as affected, as much put
on for outward show, as he himself, observing others, had come to
feel that various mannerisms in prayer must be. Bringing
his
fist
against
his
breast in circumspection he opened his eyes, raised his
head a little, and without turning his head, glanced narrowly around
him through
his
eyelashes.
Nobody seemed to have noticed anything out of the ordinary al–
though he could not, of course, be sure of those who knelt behind
him. He bowed his head again, twisting it a little to the right, low–
ered
his
right shoulder and drew it back a little, \and observed from
nearly closed eyes, He still could not see those who knelt directly be–
hind him but so far as he could see, nobody seemed to have noticed
him; then he caught Hobe Gillum's coppery eye, and blushed. He re–
adjusted
his
head and shoulder and watched Claude Gray, who knelt a
little ahead of him and to the right. Claude's head was flung far
back and was1 so twisted in adoration that the point of his left jaw,
bright gold in the candlelight, was the most conspicuous and ahnost
the highest part of
it.
What was more, it was clear that he was
praying, not to the Blessed Sacrament, but to the small, shrouded
statue of the Blessed Virgin above the lavabo table; and noticing
