Lluellyn answered her gravely and slowly.
"I know not," he said, "save only that it is God's will. All has not yet been revealed to me. But I shall know soon, very soon, Anna, old friend. And, as you are a godly woman of the Lord, I charge you that you go with this man when he departs from this place. Leave us now, Anna. I have somewhat to do with Joseph."
As his voice fell and ceased, the old lady went weeping from the room.
For some little time there was a dead silence in the place.
Joseph's brain was in a whirl, but his eyes were fixed upon the tall figure of the Teacher.
Lluellyn Lys was strangely altered. His thin form was thinner still. Always fragile in appearance, he now seemed as if a breath would blow him away. His face and hands were deathly white, and his whole appearance suggested a man almost bloodless, from whom all vitality had been literally drained away.
"You are ill, Lluellyn," Joseph said at length.
The Teacher shook his head.
"No, dear friend," he answered. "I do what I have to do, that is all."
As he spoke, he drew a chair up to the bedside, and, stretching out his long, thin hands, placed the finger-tips of one upon Joseph's forehead, and those of the other upon his pulse.