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With her lived a Mrs. "Open my heart, Father of Mercy!" she murmured, in a humble tone, and with downcast looks, "and make me sensible of the error of my ways. ’ She spoke with difficulty, holding down the rising emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. It doesn't annoy me; it only disturbs me. A delicate flush of colour streamed into her cheeks. She receded into the entryway, opening her palm and gesturing as if there were an imaginary red carpet rolled out for visitors. The black clad students streamed slowly to their positions carrying their instruments like offerings to the pilgrimage.
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