“Oh! thank God! I thought He had forgotten me. You are a priest, father?”
“I am a priest. Do you not remember seeing me in the Cathedral?”
“Yes, yes, sir; I saw you praying, father. Oh! thank God, thank God!”
Percy stood looking down at her a moment, seeing her flushed old face in the nightcap, her bright sunken eyes and her tremulous hands. Yes; this was genuine enough.
“Now, my child,” he said, “tell me.”
“My confession, father.”
Percy drew out the purple thread, slipped it over his shoulders, and sat down by the bed.
But she would not let him go for a while after that.
“Tell me, father. When will you bring me Holy Communion?”