noon
They knelt together . Walden , folding his arms on the altar-rails , hid his face , -- but the Bishop , clasping his hands and fixing his eyes on the word ` Resurget ' that flashed out of the worn alabaster -- wherein the unknown ` Saint ' reposed , seemed to gather to himself all the sunlight that poured through the window above him , and to exhale from his own slight worn frame something like the mystic halo of glory pictured round the figure of an apostle or evangelist . The minutes slowly ebbed away . The church clock chimed the half-hour after noon -- and they remained absorbed in a trance of speechless , passionate prayer . They were unaware that some of Walden 's parishioners , moved by the same idea of praying for Maryllia while she was undergoing the operation which was to save or slay , had come to the church also for that purpose , but were brought to a pause on the threshold of the building by the sight they saw within . That their own beloved ` Passon ' should be kneeling at the altar in the agony of his own heart 's Gethsemane was too much for their simple and affectionate souls , -- and they withdrew in haste and silence , many of them with tears in their eyes . They were considerably awed too by the discovery that no less a personage than the Bishop of the diocese himself was companioning Walden in his trouble , -- and , moving away in little groups of twos and threes , they stood about here and there in the churchyard , waiting for they knew not what , and all affected by the same thrill of mingled suspense , hope and fear .