Swift action followed the thought. She opened the gate, crossed the small garden, and rang the bell.
The hollow sound, breaking on the solemn stillness, startled her, and she shrank trembling in the doorway; then she heard the sound of bolts being drawn, and the next moment the house door opened, and the clergyman appeared on the threshold, holding a light.
He looked wild and haggard enough, for indeed he had been having his dark hour alone. He wore a black dressing jacket with no waistcoat, and the collar of his shirt was open and tieless, falling open to show his powerful muscular throat.
‘Alma!’ he exclaimed in astonishment.
‘You here, and so late!’
‘Yes, it is I,’ she answered in a low voice. ‘I wish to speak to you. May I come in?’
He could not see her face, but the tones of her voice startled him, as he drew back to let her enter. She passed by him without a word, and hastened along the lobby to the study.
He closed the door softly, and followed her.
The moment he came into the bright lamplight of the room he saw her standing and facing him, her face white as death, her eyes dilated.
‘My darling, what is it? Are you ill?’ he cried.