[CHAPTER VIII]
DEATH COMING WITH ONE GRACE
The door opened softly. A long beam of late winter sunshine which had been pouring in at the opposite window and striking the door with its projection of golden powder suddenly framed, played over, and lighted up the figure of Lady Llwellyn.
Sir Robert stood in the middle of the pleasant room and looked at her.
The sunlight showed up the grey pallor of her face, the lines of sorrow and resignation, the faded hair, the thin and bony hands.
"Kate," he said in a weak voice.
It was the first time he had called her by her name for many years.
The tired face lit up with a swift and divine tenderness.
She made a step forward into the room.