“Belasez!” came softly from behind her.
She turned round quickly, her hands held out in greeting, her eyes sparkling, delight written on every feature of her face.
“Father Bruno! I never knew you were in Norwich.”
“I have not been here long, my child. I wondered if we should ever meet.”
Ah, little idea had Belasez how that meeting had been imagined, longed for, prayed for, through all those weary weeks. She glanced at her father, suddenly remembering that her warm welcome to the Christian priest was not likely to be much approved by him. Bruno’s eyes followed hers.
“Abraham!” he said, in tones which sounded like a mixture of friendship and deprecation.
Abraham had bent down as though he were cowering from an expected blow. Now he lifted himself up, and held out his hand.
“Bruno de Malpas, thou art welcome, if God hath sent thee.”
“God sends all events,” answered the priest, accepting the offered hand.
“Ay, I am trying to learn that,” replied Abraham, in a voice of great pain. “For at times He sends that which breaks the heart.”