"Mr. Parker will soon be here, Harry," she said gently, bending over him.
A faint smile crossed his lips. "He can do nothing for me, Mary."
"Nay, you must not think that. You feel ill, faint; I know it; but----"
Some slight stir behind her had caught Mary's senses, and caused her to turn. There was Jane Hallet, standing half in, half out at the door, a mute, deprecatory appeal for permission to enter, shining unmistakably on her sad white face.
"Back!" said Mary with calm authority, advancing to the door with her most stately step, her hand raised to repel the intruder. "I told you to go home, Jane Hallet: it is the only thing you can do. You have no right to intrude yourself into the Nunnery. Go."
And she quietly closed the door, shutting Jane out, and returned to the bedside.
Harry's hand was feebly stretched out: it fell on her arm. "Let her come in, Mary: she is my wife."
"Your wife!"
"Yes; my wife. She has been my wife all along."
"I do not understand," faltered Mary Ursula, feeling she hardly knew how.