“Oh! thank God! I thought He had forgotten me. You are a priest, father?” “I am a priest. Do you not remember seeing me in the Cathedral?” “Yes, yes, sir; I saw you praying, father. Oh! thank God, thank God!” Percy stood looking down at her a moment, seeing her flushed old face in the nightcap, her bright sunken eyes and her tremulous hands. Yes; this was genuine enough. “Now, my child,” he said, “tell me.” “My confession, father.” Percy drew out the purple thread, slipped it over his shoulders, and sat down by the bed. * * * * * But she would not let him go for a while after that. “Tell me, father. When will you bring me Holy Communion?” He hesitated. “I understand that Mr. Brand and his wife know nothing of all this?” “No, father.” “Tell me, are you very ill?” “I don’t know, father. They will not tell me. I thought I was gone last night.” “When would you wish me to bring you Holy Communion? I will do as you say.” “Shall I send to you in a day or two? Father, ought I to tell him?” “You are not obliged.” “I will if I ought.” “Well, think about it, and let me know.... You have heard what has happened?” She nodded, but almost uninterestedly; and Percy was conscious of a tiny prick of compunction at his own heart. After all, the reconciling of a soul to God was a greater thing than the reconciling of East to West. “It may make a difference to Mr. Brand,” he said. “He will be a great man, now, you know.” She still looked at him in silence, smiling a little. Percy was astonished at the youthfulness of that old face. Then her face changed. “Father, I must not keep you; but tell me this--Who is this man?” “Felsenburgh?” “Yes.” “No one knows. We shall know more to-morrow. He is in town to-night.” She looked so strange that Percy for an instant thought it was a seizure. Her face seemed to fall away in a kind of emotion, half cunning, half fear. “Well, my child?” “Father, I am a little afraid when I think of that man. He cannot harm me, can he? I am safe now? I am a Catholic--?” “My child, of course you are safe. What is the matter? How can this man injure you?” But the look of terror was still there, and Percy came a step nearer. “You must not give way to fancies,” he said. “Just commit yourself to our Blessed Lord. This man can do you no harm.” He was speaking now as to a child; but it was of no use. Her old mouth was still sucked in, and her eyes wandered past him into the gloom of the room behind. “My child, tell me what is the matter. What do you know of Felsenburgh? You have been dreaming.” She nodded suddenly and energetically, and Percy for the first time felt his heart give a little leap of apprehension. Was this old woman out of her mind, then? Or why was it that that name seemed to him sinister? Then he remembered that Father Blackmore had once talked like this. He made an effort, and sat down once more.