At the same moment Bale-Corphew left her without a word, and passed rapidly down the aisle.
Great fear frequently exercises a paralyzing effect upon the body. With the undeniable knowledge that the time for action—the time for hope—was irrevocably passed, Enid felt deprived of the power to move. She sat crouching in her seat, every sense alive and strained, but with limbs that were overpowered and weighted as if by tangible fetters.
Thrilling to this numb and impotent sense of dread, she heard the devotees enter the chapel, one after another, and pass to their chosen seats with soft, gliding steps. With a sickening knowledge of approaching catastrophe, she saw another of the unconventional black-robed servants emerge from behind the Sanctuary curtain, and proceed with maddening deliberation to light the sixteen groups of wax tapers that were set at intervals along the walls. Mechanically her eyes followed the man's movements; and it seemed that each new taper that spat, flickered, and shot up into a light was a symbol, a portent of the scene to come.
As the last candle was lighted, the shuffling of feet and the stir of garments that, since the entry of the first devotee, had unceasingly filled the chapel suddenly subsided, and nerved to motion by the lull, she turned and glanced behind her.
The scene, familiar though it was, impressed her anew. It was a strange effect in black and white. The black clothes of the congregation seemed massed together in a sombre blur; their strained, fanatical faces looked white and set; while the marble walls shone out, sharp and polished, in the same contrasting hues. Over the whole scene the concentrated light and accentuated shadow thrown by the great sconces glowing with tapers, made a variation of tone almost as vivid as that seen on a moonlight night.
Unconsciously she recognized the curious, the almost barbaric picturesqueness of light and grouping; but her eyes had barely skimmed the scene when the meaning of the hush that filled the place was brought home to her mind.
Glancing towards the curtain that hid the entrance, she saw the figure of the Prophet move slowly into the chapel and pass up the aisle, attended by the Precursor and the Six Arch-Mystics.
He moved forward with grave, dignified steps, and with a head held even higher than usual, and reaching the Sanctuary gate, passed through it without hesitation.
The action was so calm—so natural—so like what she had witnessed night after night—that Enid sat newly petrified, her senses striving to associate this strong figure with the man who, only a few hours before, had humiliated himself in her presence. For a moment her mind refused the connection of ideas; but the next a full realization of the position swept over her, galvanizing her mentally and physically, as she turned in her seat and glanced at the seven who were following in the wake.