word of sin is a wound in His tender side.  Every sinful act is a thorn piercing His head.  Every impure thought, deliberately yielded to, is a keen lance transfixing that sacred and loving heart.  No, no.  It is impossible for any human being to do that which offends so deeply the divine majesty, that which is punished by an eternity of agony, that which crucifies again the Son of God and makes a mockery of Him.

—­I pray to God that my poor words may have availed today to confirm in holiness those who are in a state of grace, to strengthen the wavering, to lead back to the state of grace the poor soul that has strayed if any such be among you.  I pray to God, and do you pray with me, that we may repent of our sins.  I will ask you now, all of you, to repeat after me the act of contrition, kneeling here in this humble chapel in the presence of God.  He is there in the tabernacle burning with love for mankind, ready to comfort the afflicted.  Be not afraid.  No matter how many or how foul the sins if you only repent of them they will be forgiven you.  Let no worldly shame hold you back.  God is still the merciful Lord who wishes not the eternal death of the sinner but rather that he be converted and live.

—­He calls you to Him.  You are His.  He made you out of nothing.  He loved you as only a God can love.  His arms are open to receive you even though you have sinned against Him.  Come to Him, poor sinner, poor vain and erring sinner.  Now is the acceptable time.  Now is the hour.

The priest rose and, turning towards the altar, knelt upon the step before the tabernacle in the fallen gloom.  He waited till all in the chapel had knelt and every least noise was still.  Then, raising his head, he repeated the act of contrition, phrase by phrase, with fervour.  The boys answered him phrase by phrase.  Stephen, his tongue cleaving to his palate, bowed his head, praying with his heart.

—­O my God!—­ —­O my God!—­ —­I am heartily sorry—­ —­I am heartily sorry—­ —­for having offended Thee—­ —­for having offended Thee—­ —­and I detest my sins—­ —­and I detest my sins—­ —­above every other evil—­ —­above every other evil—­ —­because they displease Thee, my God—­ —­because they displease Thee, my God—­ —­Who art so deserving—­ —­Who art so deserving—­ —­of all my love—­ —­of all my love—­ —­and I firmly purpose—­ —­and I firmly purpose—­ —­by Thy holy grace—­ —­by Thy holy grace—­ —­never more to offend Thee—­ —­never more to offend Thee—­ —­and to amend my life—­ —­and to amend my life—­

* * * * *

He went up to his room after dinner in order to be alone with his soul, and at every step his soul seemed to sigh; at every step his soul mounted with his feet, sighing in the ascent, through a region of viscid gloom.

He halted on the landing before the door and then, grasping the porcelain knob, opened the door quickly.  He waited in fear, his soul pining within him, praying silently that death might not touch his brow as he passed over the threshold, that the fiends that inhabit darkness might not be given power over him.  He waited still at the threshold as at the entrance to some dark cave.  Faces were there; eyes:  they waited and watched.