Where the land fell away to woods a tombsone stood mute and abandoned

Thomas Wallis Evans
Born Feb 9, 1848
At Wilkesbarre
Died At Germantown
May 26, 1897

it said. I copied on a piece of paper I found in my pocket and tried to imagine the face. Across the always flowing waters of the river was a city section of ancient mills and stone churches and steep hills which visited on days away from the market. The ways in which the light of winter appeared on the sides of mills and chuches made me think of the boredom and melancholy of childhood. I crossed the bridge over the river and when I reached a steep hill stared back at the cemetery.
A priest silent and reserved appeared then climbed the steps of a church.

I waited there for several monts listeing to the distant sound of cars on the streets and hills and then a passing elevated train and then i walked up the steep street that led to the steps which led to the church and walked inside.

I counted three other people inside the church, all ancient-looking women kneeling alone and saying their rosaries, the beads dangling through their fingers. I considered getting up to go before mass began but thought silence and ritual felt comforting.

As I waited I prayed but my thoughts were difficult. I thought of

Mr. Hennessy and tried to put him out of my mind. I stared up at a station of the cross above my head lit by the purple and light of stained glass: it was an image of Christ falling with the cross upon his back. I kept my eyes on the engraving and I tried to pray.
A swell of organ resounded through the church. Turning I saw the priest I had seen on the street. As he turned to look at the tiny congregation I think he saw me. I thought of leaving but stayed on.