“Stella, my dear.”
He took both her hands in his firm, kind clasp, and looked into her eyes. His own seemed larger than usual, for his hair was cut very close, almost shorn. That, and his rough grey cassock buttoned collarless to his chin, altered his appearance completely. Except for his touch and voice, he seemed almost a stranger.
“Gervase....” she sank into a chair—“Help me, Gervase.”
“Of course I will. Did you get my note?”
“Yes—but, oh, Gervase....”
She could say no more. Her breath seemed gone. She held her handkerchief to her mouth, and trembled.
“I should have written more—but I’ve had such a time, Stella, with my family and the lawyers. Perhaps you can understand what a business it all is when I tell you that I’ve no intention of coming out of the Order, which means I’ve got to make up my mind what to do with this place. I’ve been at it hard all yesterday afternoon and this morning with my father’s London solicitors, but I’ve managed to keep the family quiet till after the funeral, by which time I shall have the details settled. Otherwise I should have come to see you.... But I knew you were safe.”
“Gervase, I’m not safe.”
“My dear——”
He held out his hand and she took it.