"Alixe?"
He entered.
Sir Thorald lay very still under the sheets, the crucifix on his breast. At first Jack thought he was dead, but the slight motion of the chest under the sheets reassured him. He turned to Alixe:
"Go for a minute and comfort Lorraine," he whispered. "Go, my child."
"I—I cannot—"
"Go," said Sir Thorald, in a distinct voice.
When she had gone, Jack bent over Sir Thorald. A great pity filled him, and he touched the half-opened hand with his own.
Sir Thorald looked up at him wistfully.
"I am not worth it," he said.