"St. Matthew."
"Mister St. Matthew, if you will. There;" she presented the book; "you read so beautifully--really you do, without flattery."
"I will not read for you to mock."
Her face flashed into crude anger. "Read," she commanded harshly.
The vicar would have declined again, but that his eye fell on the verses she had indicated. A memory of their earlier conversation, coupled with her unnecessary vehemence, made him obey without further hesitation. It might be that here was the key to the problem of her jerky speech. His mellow voice rose like the music of a solemn bell, and the glorious words rolled majestically through the room.
"When He was come down from the mountain, great multitudes followed Him. And, behold, there came a leper and worshipped Him, saying, Lord, if Thou wilt, Thou canst make me clean. And Jesus put forth His hand, and touched him, saying, I will; be thou clean. And immediately his leprosy was cleansed."
"And immediately his leprosy was cleansed," breathed the Duchess, gripping the arms of her chair to lean forward. "Why not 'her' leprosy?"
Lionel laid down the sacred volume. "It was a man who came to ask mercy of our Lord," said he, obtusely.
Leah threw herself back in the chair with the pettish cry of a misunderstood child. "Oh, you fool!"
Something in her voice startled him; yet he was far from gathering her meaning. "What is it?" he demanded, entirely bewildered.