She almost sighed; a soothing music had ended. Could the sermon be ended already? No; she looked round; the people did not move.
A good many faces seemed now to turn her way.' She looked behind her sharply. There was nothing there.
Startled countenances near her now eyed the preacher. She followed their looks; and there, in the pulpit, was a face as of a staring corpse. The friar's eyes, naturally large, and made larger by the thinness of his cheeks, were dilated to supernatural size, and glaring her way out of a bloodless face.
She cringed and turned fearfully round: for she thought there must be some terrible thing near her. No; there was nothing; she was the outside figure of the listening crowd.
At this moment the church fell into commotion, Figures got up all over the building, and craned forward; agitated faces by hundreds gazed from the friar to Margaret, and from Margaret to the friar. The turning to and fro of so many caps made a loud rustle. Then came shrieks of nervous women, and buzzing of men; and Margaret, seeing so many eyes levelled at her, shrank terrified behind the pillar, with one scared, hurried glance at the preacher.
Momentary as that glance was, it caught in that stricken face an expression that made her shiver.
She turned faint, and sat down on a heap of chips the workmen had left, and buried her face in her hands, The sermon went on again. She heard the sound of it; but not the sense. She tried to think, but her mind was in a whirl, Thought would fix itself in no shape but this: that on that prodigy-stricken face she had seen a look stamped. And the recollection of that look now made her quiver from head to foot.
For that look was “RECOGNITION.”
The sermon, after wavering some time, ended in a strain of exalted, nay, feverish eloquence, that went far to make the crowd forget the preacher's strange pause and ghastly glare. Margaret mingled hastily with the crowd, and went out of the church with them.
They went their ways home. But she turned at the door, and went into the churchyard; to Peter's grave. Poor as she was, she had given him a slab and a headstone. She sat down on the slab, and kissed it. Then threw her apron over her head that no one might distinguish her by her hair.