The World's Cathedral

"Do not these inestimable advantages," thought Hilda, "or some of them
at least, belong to Christianity itself? Are they not a part of the
blessings which the system was meant to bestow upon mankind? Can the
faith in which I was born and bred be perfect, if it leave a weak girl
like me to wander, desolate, with this great trouble crushing me down?"

A poignant anguish thrilled within her breast; it was like a thing that
had life, and was struggling to get out.

"O help! O help!" cried Hilda; "I cannot, cannot bear it!"

Only by the reverberations that followed--arch echoing the sound to
arch, and a pope of bronze repeating it to a pope of marble, as each
sat enthroned over his tomb--did Hilda become aware that she had really
spoken above her breath. But, in that great space, there is no need to
hush up the heart within one's own bosom, so carefully as elsewhere;
and if the cry reached any distant auditor, it came broken into many
fragments, and from various quarters of the church.

Approaching one of the confessionals, she saw a woman kneeling within.
Just as Hilda drew near, the penitent rose, came forth, and kissed the
hand of the priest, who regarded her with a look of paternal benignity,
and appeared to be giving her some spiritual counsel, in a low voice.
She then knelt to receive his blessing, which was fervently bestowed.
Hilda was so struck with the peace and joy in the woman's face, that, as
the latter retired, she could not help speaking to her.