Excerpt from The Valley of Decision, Vol. 1: A Novel

It was very still in the small neglected chapel. The noises of the farm came faintly through closed doors - voices shouting at the oxen in the lower fields, the querulous bark of the old house-dog, and Filomena"s angry calls to the little white-faced foundling in the kitchen.

The February day was closing, and a ray of sunshine, slanting through a slit in the chapel-wall, brought out the vision of a pale haloed head floating against the dusky background of the chancel like a water-lily on its leaf. The face was that of the saint of Assisi - a sunken ravaged countenance, lit with an ecstasy of suffering that seemed not so much to reflect the anguish of the Christ at whose feet the saint knelt as the mute pain of all poor downtrodden folk on earth.

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