“Has father come in yet?” I asked her, quickly.
She nodded.
“About five minutes ago. The walk seemed to have done him good,” she added. “He was quite cheerful, and had a wonderful color. Why, Kate! what have you been doing to yourself? You are as white as a ghost.”
“He was alone, I suppose?” I asked, ignoring the question.
“Alone! Of course he was alone. Come in and have some tea at once. You look tired out.”
CHAPTER IX
A TERRIBLE INTERRUPTION
By some means or other the news had spread in the village, and such a congregation as I had never seen filled our little church long before the usual time. In a dark corner I saw, to my surprise, Bruce Deville leaning against a pillar with folded arms, and on my way to my pew I passed Adelaide Fortress seated in a chair in the nave. Neither of these two had I ever seen in church before, and what had brought them there on that particular evening I never clearly understood. It was a little irony of fate—one of those impulses which it is hard to believe are altogether coincidences.
The Bishop came early, and sat by Lady Naselton’s side, the centre of all eyes. I looked away from him to the chancel. I was strangely nervous. It was still dimly lit, although the bells had ceased to ring. There was only a moment’s pause, however, then the little space was filled with white-robed figures, and my sister’s voluntary, unduly prolonged in this instance, died away in a few soft chords. I drew a long breath of relief. Everything was going as usual. Perhaps, after all this night might be a fateful one to us.