She signed to Jack to stay where he was, and passed through the curtained door. He stood with his eyes fixed upon it, feeling that pause of solemn expectation with which we wait when we know that we are to enter on an awful Presence, awful both for its strangeness and its nearness. All sounds intensify themselves in such a waiting: it seemed to him that a hundred things were going on; he heard the distant cry of the water-sellers, the roll of wheels, the laughter of the crowd, a fly buzzing at the window. Cartouche gave a low whine, and went back to his station, sitting against the door with bent attentive head. No one came. At last a woman bustled into the room, and lit a small brass lamp with four wicks branching out on different sides and slender chains hanging. Then she, too, paused and listened. "The poor Signora!" she said to Jack, clasping her hands. "It is near the end. And we all loved her. Eh, and look at the dog! It is strange." Just at that moment Phillis opened the door and signed to Jack. "Her weakness is so great," she said in a whisper, "that the very joy of your coming is almost more than she can bear. But she will not wait." No. He understood why she would put nothing off when he saw the white changed face, lit up as it was with happiness as he knelt down and kissed her. "My boy!" was all she said at first, but lay holding his hand and smiling now and then. Miss Preston, who had been standing at the window, went softly out, crying. Phillis only paused to tell Jack that one of them would be in the anteroom, before she followed her. Those two were left behind--two, and the shadowy Presence. "You're not in pain, Aunt Mary?" said Jack brokenly. "Not now. It has quite gone now. God has been so good all through, and He has brought you back." "I came at once, but I wish I could have heard before." "Yes, my dear, I know, I know. I hope it was not selfish to want you, but you always were my boy. And, Jack--" "Yes, Aunt Mary?" Speech was very difficult, but she struggled with it, and he put his ear down near her face-- "--You have never known her--Phillis. And I was foolish and urged it. Now I see that I was wrong--we can't tell what is best, can we?--only I think--I pray you two may have whatever is best for you both. I think you will. God knows--and I have prayed--"