might be the tread of a mailed heel upon the stone of the aisle. I sat
immovable. I was fighting with all my strength to get back my courage. I
could not take my arms down from over my face, but I knew that I was
getting hold of the gritty part of me again. And suddenly I made a mighty
effort and lowered my arms. I held my face up in the darkness. And, I
tell you, I respect myself for the act, because I thought truly at that
moment that I was going to die. But I think, just then, by the slow
revulsion of feeling which had assisted my effort, I was less sick, in
that instant, at the thought of having to die, than at the knowledge of
the utter weak cowardice that had so unexpectedly shaken me all to bits,
for a time.

"Do I make myself clear? You understand, I feel sure, that the sense of
respect, which I spoke of, is not really unhealthy egotism; because, you
see, I am not blind to the state of mind which helped me. I mean that if
I had uncovered my face by a sheer effort of will, unhelped by any
revulsion of feeling, I should have done a thing much more worthy of
mention. But, even as it was, there were elements in the act, worthy of
respect. You follow me, don't you?

"And, you know, nothing touched me, after all! So that, in a little
while, I had got back a bit to my normal, and felt steady enough to go
through with the business without any more funking.

"I daresay a couple of minutes passed, and then, away up near the
chancel, there came again that clang, as though an armored foot stepped
cautiously. By Jove! but it made me stiffen. And suddenly the thought
came that the sound I heard might be the rattle of the dagger above the
altar. It was not a particularly sensible notion, for the sound was far
too heavy and resonant for such a cause. Yet, as can be easily