“That’s Gervase,” said Jenny.
“Or perhaps it’s Sir John....”
But it was Gervase—the next minute he came into the room.
“I’ve brought him,” he said—“is everything ready?”
“Yes, quite ready,” said Dr. Mount.
Then Rose saw standing behind Gervase outside the door a tall stooping figure in a black cloak, under which its arms were folded over something that it carried on its breast.
The Lord had come suddenly to Leasan Parsonage.
Immediately panic seized her, a panic which became strangely fused with anger. She sprang forward and would have shut the door.
“Don’t come in—you’re frightening him—he mustn’t be disturbed.... Oh, he’d be better, if you’d only let him alone....”
She felt someone take her arm and gently pull her aside—the next moment she was unaccountably on her knees, and crying as if her heart would break. She saw that the intruder no longer stood framed in the doorway—he was beside the bed, bending over George, his shadow thrown monstrous on the ceiling by the candle-light.... What was he saying?...
“Lord, I am not worthy that Thou shouldest come under my roof....”