Father Lennard returned to the sick-room, and sat there holding the hand of the dying, whose sad, sunken blue eyes never left his face, and talking of that merciful Redeemer, who once said to another poor sinful creature, "Neither do I condemn thee!" Nathalie lay, clasping a crucifix to her breast, her pale lips moving in ceaseless inward prayer, while she listened, her face calm and beautiful in its holy hope. The hours that intervened seemed very short, and then the carriage wheels crunched over the gravel, and Nathalie caught her breath with a sort of gasp.
"Oh, Father, do you think she has come?"
"I trust so, dear child! I will go and see."
As he entered the drawing-room, the front door opened. Val stalked in, followed by Miss Rose and—yes, by a figure stately and tall, dressed very plainly, and closely vailed. The priest knew that majestic figure, although the face, seen dimly through the vail, was so changed that he hardly knew it.
"You may go in," he said, in reply to Miss Rose's appealing look; "she is waiting for you."
As the door closed upon the tall vailed form, and the two women, united to the same man, were face to face, Father Lennard took his hat to go.
"I shall return again in the afternoon," he said; "I would stay all day if I could, but it is impossible."
"I will drive you into town," said Val; "Peter can fetch the traps back. Oh, here's the doctor!"
Dr. Leach opened the garden-gate as they came out, and lifted his hat to the clergyman.
"How is she?" he asked.