“I—” he stammered, “I am not—fit—not fit——”
He had not known what he was going to say when he began, and he did not know how he intended to end. He heard with a passionate sense of relief that the door behind them opened, and turned to find that Mrs. Latimer stood upon the threshold as if in hesitancy.
“Lucien,” she said, “it is that poor girl from Janway’s Mills. The one Margery was so sorry for—Susan Chapman. She wants to see you. I think the poor child wants to ask about Margery.”
Latimer made a movement forward, but checked himself.
“Tell her to come in,” he said.
Mrs. Latimer went to the front door, and in a few seconds returned. The girl was with her and entered the room slowly. She was very pale and her eyes were dilated and she breathed fast as if frightened. She glanced at John Baird and stopped.
“I didn’t know anyone else was here,” she said.
“I will go away, if you wish it,” said Baird, the sympathetic tone returning to his voice.
“No,” said Latimer, “you can do her more good than I can. This gentleman,” he added to the girl, “is my friend, and a Minister of God as well as myself. He is the Rev. John Baird.”
There was in his eyes, as he addressed her, a look which was like an expression of dread—as if he saw in her young yet faded face and figure something which repelled him almost beyond self-control.