“My child, of course you are safe. What is the matter? How can this man injure you?”
But the look of terror was still there, and Percy came a step nearer.
“You must not give way to fancies,” he said. “Just commit yourself to our Blessed Lord. This man can do you no harm.”
He was speaking now as to a child; but it was of no use. Her old mouth was still sucked in, and her eyes wandered past him into the gloom of the room behind.
“My child, tell me what is the matter. What do you know of Felsenburgh? You have been dreaming.”
She nodded suddenly and energetically, and Percy for the first time felt his heart give a little leap of apprehension. Was this old woman out of her mind, then? Or why was it that that name seemed to him sinister? Then he remembered that Father Blackmore had once talked like this. He made an effort, and sat down once more.
“Now tell me plainly,” he said. “You have been dreaming. What have you dreamt?”
She raised herself a little in bed, again glancing round the room; then she put out her old ringed hand for one of his, and he gave it, wondering.
“The door is shut, father? There is no one listening?”
“No, no, my child. Why are you trembling? You must not be superstitious.”