“God’s merciful,” said the priest. His tones seemed hoarse with the passion of a sensuous youth. “And yer other sins?” he asked.
IV
SHE prayed for a long time before the altar, mingling tears with her prayers. Footfalls came and went, but nobody paid any heed to the kneeling woman. Of this she was glad. Norah wanted to do good, as other people commit evil actions, secretly. The trembling shadows thrown by the sanctuary lamp played round the Christ who, with outstretched hand, stood over the sacristy door. How great and serious the Saviour looked! The girl imagined that He was thinking of some great secret belonging to humanity but hidden so deeply that it was unknown to man.
At ten o’clock she returned to her room and sat there for a long while. A great peace had stolen into her soul, a peace that was mingled with no regrets. She had forgotten the pain in her shoulder, forgotten everything but the figure of the Christ over the sacristy door, and the hand that was held out above her head as if in blessing.
It was near midnight when she went out to buy provisions for the next day. The hooligans at the street corner were very drunk and very noisy. There were no policemen about; a fight some distance off was engaging their attention.
“Ah! here’s one that’ll hae some siller, the kip-shop wench!” shouted one of the roughs, a big, round-shouldered rascal, on seeing Norah. “Fork out, my pretty, and gie us some tin.”
“Fork out!” roared the rest of the gang in chorus.
Norah stood undecided, one foot in the gutter, one on the pavement. The grocer’s shop was a dozen paces away.
“The cops will be here in a jiffy,” someone shouted in a tense whisper. “Search her!”
Then followed a wild rush and Norah was conscious of many things in the next few minutes. The air seemed suddenly charged with the fumes of alcohol; hands seized her, rough fingers fumbled at her blouse, opened it and rested on her breasts; a whistle was blown, she fell to the pavement, got dragged for a few paces on the wet street and was pulled to her feet again. Someone laid hands on her purse and took it out; a scramble ensued, then a fight for the money. Norah was thrown down again and trampled upon. The hooligans tore the purse and several coins fell to the ground. A second whistle was blown, and the crowd disappeared, leaving Norah lying in a dead faint on the pavement.