[She] flung herself / Down on the great King's couch, and writhed upon it, / And clench'd her fingers till they bit the palm, / And shriek'd out 'traitor' to the unhearing wall, […]

Then everybody once more knelt, and soon the blessing was pronounced. The choir and the clergy trooped out slowly, […], down the nave to the western door. […] At a seemingly immense distance the surpliced group stopped to say the last prayer.

They helped carry things up a sidewalk bordered with a purple fringe of ageratums into the small house behind the parsonage.

My heart will skip a beat.