He appeared to Nathan as if he felt that the group
before him only waited his command to fade away in the morning light
that struggled among the candles, but he could not bear to give the
word; and so they kept playing with the festoons, and stepping about
the pews to please him. Nathan felt a cold thrill, partly from
pleasure, and partly from awe, running up his back, and a strong pain
across his forehead, seldom known to one of his temperament. Again and
again he drew his hand across his brows, until he felt that he was
near swooning, and like to fall; and he clung desperately to his hold.
When the fit was over, he dared venture no more, but hastened to the
ground.
It was no fear of ridicule or of incredulity that led Nathan Stoddard
to keep secret what he had witnessed. But it was like some deep and
holy experience that would lose its charm if it were spoken of to
another. So he went back to his shop, and sat looking upon the church,
and watching, almost with dread, the doves that lighted upon its roof,
and fluttered about, and beat their wings against its windows.
The minister of Nathan's parish was a young man by the name of Dudley;
and it so happened that he had driven out, before light, on the
morning we have spoken of, to visit a sick man at some distance.
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