CHAPTER VI
CELIA’S AWAKENING
In due course came Sunday. The boys appeared at breakfast in their best suits, with faces that seemed to have caught the reflection from their patent leather shoes, for they had received an especial Sunday shine. The little girls were attired in embroidered silk frocks, with strict injunctions not to soil them. A sense of best clothes and quiet behaviour pervaded the air; Woodruffe was enveloped by an atmosphere of Sunday.
Celia was given the option of accompanying the family to church, or of going for a walk with Enid, who, with her eldest brother, had already attended the early Communion Service. She chose the former alternative, partly out of interest, partly because Ralph had been invited to preach, and she knew that Enid would like to hear him. With the exception of two weddings at Durlston, she had never attended a church service before, and hoped she would not shock the congregation by her ignorance of Church customs. She felt quite uncomfortable when they arrived within hearing of the deep-toned bells and in sight of the pointed spire. She almost wished she had not come.
But this feeling was quite dispelled when they came within the precincts of the sacred edifice, and a strain of organ music fell upon their ears. It was an air from Mendelssohn’s Elijah—“If with all your hearts,” and because it was familiar to her, Celia felt less strange.
She could scarcely restrain an exclamation of surprise as they passed through the swing-doors and up the aisle; she had had no idea that a church could be so beautiful. The altar, with its brass cross, tall candles, and white flowers; the richly painted window above it reaching right up to the wainscoted roof; the ornamental inscriptions on the walls; the brass eagle-shaped lectern; the elaborately carved altar rails, choir stalls and pulpit;—all these excited her admiration; and when, a little later, the white-robed procession of choristers and clergy filed to their places in the chancel, she considered the scene, as a beautiful picture, complete.
Throughout the service Celia was deeply impressed. The dignity of the Liturgy, the solemn beauty of the music, and, most of all, the evident sincerity of the worshippers, moved her strangely. Presently she began to consider the religion itself. Judaism, as practised in the present day, she had found impossible. Deism was unsatisfactory. What of the religion from which she had always been kept aloof? She was not entirely ignorant of the doctrines of the Christian faith; and from early childhood had cherished the deepest respect for the Founder of Christianity, just as she had admired all the great men who have made history. But now it was gradually dawning upon her that in Christ’s religion she would find that spirituality she had sought so long in vain. She knew the principles it inculcated: love, charity, self-sacrifice, peace, and piety—all that conduced to the development of man’s spiritual nature.
During her week’s stay at Woodruffe she had already discovered that religion was, to the Wiltons, a practical reality; that it tempered all their actions; that they were as certain of its truth as they were of life itself. She found herself wondering if, although she had been taught to the contrary, Christianity were true after all; and as the service came to a close, determined to study the subject to the best of her ability.
She would have liked to discuss the subject with Enid, but, although she could not have explained why, felt shy of introducing the subject.
In the afternoon, however, an opportunity occurred. They were out for a stroll on the cliffs with Irene and Doris. A fresh breeze was blowing, covering the waves with foam. Enid found a nook sheltered from the wind; and the four girls threw themselves down on the long dry grass to rest awhile.