‘Oh, Stephen--yes--I know you’ve done all you could. You’ve been wonderful----’ She put down the comb and went across to him, and he enfolded her in his arms. ‘I wish----’ she began. ‘What do you wish, my beloved wife?’ he asked, laying one hand, as if in blessing, on her head. ‘I hope it is something nice, for, you know, whatever it is you wish I shall be unable not to wish it too.’ She smiled, and sighed, and nestled close. ‘Darling Stephen,’ she murmured; and after a moment said, with another sigh, ‘I wish mother didn’t miss father.’ ‘Yes,’ said Stephen. ‘Indeed I wish it too. But,’ he went on, stroking the long lovely strands of her thick hair, ‘we must make allowances.’ XVI The next morning Catherine went to church for the last time--for when Stephen was in London, and not there to invite her to accompany him, which he solemnly before each separate service did, there would be no more need to go--and for the last time mingled her psalms with Mrs. Colquhoun’s. The psalms at Morning Prayer were said, not sung, and she was in the middle of joining with Mrs. Colquhoun in asserting that it was better to trust in the Lord than to put any confidence in man, which at that moment she was very willing to believe, when she felt she was being stared at. She looked up from her prayer-book, but could see only a few backs, and, one on each side of the chancel, Stephen and Mr. Lambton tossing the verses backwards and forwards across to each other, as if they were a kind of holy ball. She went on with her psalm, but the feeling grew stronger, and at last, contrary to all decent practice, she turned round. There was Christopher. She stood gazing at him, her open prayer-book in her hand, for such an appreciable moment that Mrs. Colquhoun had to say the next verse without her. <i>The same stone</i>, said Mrs. Colquhoun very loud and distinctly, and in a voice of remonstrance--for really, what had come over Virginia’s mother, turning her back on the altar in this manner?--<i>which the builders refused is become the head-stone of the corner.</i> She had to say all the other verses without her as well, and all subsequent responses, because Virginia’s mother, though she presently resumed her proper eastward position, was thenceforth--such odd behaviour--dumb. Perhaps she was not feeling well. She certainly looked pale, or, rather, yellow, thought Mrs. Colquhoun, observing her during the reading of the first lesson, through which she sat with downcast eyes and grew, so it seemed to Mrs. Colquhoun, steadily yellower. ‘Dear Mrs. Cumfrit,’ whispered Mrs. Colquhoun at last, bending towards her, for she really did look sick, and it would be terrible if she--‘would you like to go out?’ ‘Oh <i>no</i>,’ was the quick, emphatic answer.