October 15, 1875. Evening
OOC Note: This takes place immediately following the previous entry.
Following the conclusion of the evening service, Father St Beuve filled me in on what happened. Apparently I deviated from the sermon into an impassioned speech regarding people of other faiths, specifically that the world would be better off without them and that it was the duty of any Catholic to rid it of them.
I was shocked, to say the least. I would never knowingly make anything like those statements, but it appears as though I did. I fear that I’m not completely free of the influence of whatever took hold of me in Analine. Unfortunately, Father St Beuve agrees. In the confessional, I explained to him what happened on our trip to see Dr Mulroney. He was not happy that I asked Nitza to call upon her gift (or curse, depending on how you want to look at it) to help Danika, and that it resulted in all three of us becoming possessed. He assigned me appropriate penance for some of my transgressions, but reserved judgement on the possession and my statements from the pulpit until he could properly reflect on them.
An interesting thought has occurred to me: you must show true remorse to be forgiven for your sins in the eyes of our Lord. But what if you don’t remember committing the sin? Can you really be sorry for something, if you don’t remember doing it? If not, how can you ever be forgiven?
As I was getting myself right with the Lord, there was a commotion outside. Father St Beuve went see what was happening, and as the noise increased so did I. We learned there were wild rumors running through the streets of a “miracle child” who healed Pastor Hook after he was assaulted. Further, the child claimed to be an orphan in the care of St Mary’s. I’ve never actually fallen from a cliff, but I imagine the sensation to be close to what I felt when St Beuve and I realized the only orphan child unaccounted for was Danika.
A crowd was beginning to form on the church steps. I was able to get some of them to return home, but there were dozens more on their way as the rumors spread. The Pinkerton agent Smith – who happened to be there “just observing” – was no help. He seemed to think Mr Thompson would turn up in the crowd, and could have cared less about establishing any sort of order. Ultimately, a group of large men – self-appointed protectors, it seems – turned up with the Blessed Child in tow. “I think we can safely call her Danika” was Father St Beuve’s first response. We set about “preparing a place” for the miracle girl – though it degrades Mother Church to play along with the charade, telling these people their new idol is just a normal child would have only started another riot. Though I pity anyone who gets in Mrs Johansen’s way for the rest of the night… she was extremely put out when she was told to prepare a room for Danika the Little Miracle.
Eventually, the protectors made their way to the front, and the one carrying a struggling Danika – he appeared to be a rather simple man – insisted he be allowed to clean her feet before she was allowed to walk. We were able to convince him to set her down on the church steps – sacred ground – while he ran off to fetch a pail of water from the well. In the meantime, I was able to convince most of the crowd to calm down and go home. I’m slightly ashamed to say I was rather harsh on them, but if Danika is truly working miracles now (and I wouldn’t be too surprised), it is not some silly parlor trick they can demand of her at will.