Within the chapel it was cool and dark, for the sun of the late afternoon did not touch any of the lancet windows. The great rose window was a wheel of dying color.
They filed to right and left, the Colonel and Miss Truelow sitting on one side, Mr. Curtis and Miss Collett on the other, while Mr. Clearwater climbed the small winding stair leading to the organ loft. Doctor Murchison remained at the back of the church.
The Reverend Mark Hickett made his way slowly up the central aisle, paused a moment beneath the chancel arch, and then climbed the three steps leading to the altar. There he turned and faced them.
“We will sing,” he said tonelessly, “hymn one hundred and sixty-eight. The one hundred and sixty-eighth hymn: ‘dark lowers the night above our restless souls.’”
There was a slight
