The man shook his head.
"But I believe in God," he said. "Ah least, I think so."
Percy leaned back, trying to realise exactly what it all meant. There was no triumph in his mind—that kind of emotion was not his weakness; there was fear of a kind, excitement, bewilderment, and under all a satisfaction that God's grace was so sovereign. If it could reach this woman, who could be too far removed for it to take effect? Presently he noticed the other looking at him anxiously.
"You are afraid, sir? You are not going back from your promise?"
That dispersed the cloud a little, and Percy smiled.
"Oh! no," he said. "I will be there at twenty-two o'clock. . . . Is death imminent?"
"No, sir; it is syncope. She is recovered a little this morning."
The priest passed his hand over his eyes and stood up.
"Well, I will be there," he said. "Shall you be there, sir?"
The other shook his head, standing up too.
"I must be with Mr. Brand, sir; there is to be a meeting to-night; but I must not speak of that. . . . No, sir; ask for Mrs. Brand, and say that she is expecting you. They will take you upstairs at once."
"I must not say I am a priest, I suppose?"
"No, sir; if you please."
He drew out a pocket-book, scribbled in it a moment, tore out the sheet, and handed it to the priest.
"The address, sir. Will you kindly destroy that when you have copied it? I—I do not wish to lose my place, sir, if it can be helped."
Percy stood twisting the paper in his fingers a moment.
