Any solemn rite, any spectacle of sincere worship, any opening for appeal to God was as welcome to me then as bread to one in extremity of want.

I knelt down with others on the stone pavement.

It was an old solemn church, its pervading gloom not gilded but purpled by light shed through stained glass.
Few worshippers were assembled, and, the _salut_ over, half of them departed.

I discovered soon that those left remained to confess.

I did not stir.