It was very quiet and peaceful within that
tiny church. The afternoon sun shone through the upper windows and made
a golden haze about the roof. The natural murmurs of the summer floated
pleasantly through the open door.
"I am glad that you remembered our drive and what we said," she
continued. "It is rather important to me that you should remember.
Because, although I have got you back, I am going to send you away from
me again. You will be one of the absent friends whom I shall not lose
because you are absent."
She spoke slowly, looking straight in front of her without faltering. It
was a difficult speech for her to deliver, but she had thought over it
night and day during this last fortnight, and the words were ready to
her lips. At the first sight of Harry Feversham, recovered to her after
so many years, so much suspense, so much suffering, it had seemed to her
that she never would be able to speak them, however necessary it was
that they should be spoken. But as they stood over against one another
she had forced herself to remember that necessity until she actually
recognised and felt it. Then she had gone back into the church and taken
a seat, and gathered up her strength.
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