The tread and movements were those of a heavy man--some countryman, she supposed.
But his neighbourhood was unwelcome, and the chapel ceased to be a place of refuge where feeling might have its way.

In a few minutes she rose and turned towards the door.
She gave a little cry.

The man kneeling at the back of the chapel rose in astonishment and came towards her.
'Madame!' 'Father Benecke! _you_ here,' said Eleanor, leaning against the wall for support--so weak was she, and so startling was this sudden apparition of the man whom she had last seen on the threshold of the glass passage at Marinata, barely a fortnight before.
'I fear, Madame, that I intrude upon you,' said the old priest, staring at her with embarrassment.

'I will retire.' 'No, no,' said Eleanor, putting out her hand, with some recovery of her normal voice and smile.

'It was only so--surprising; so--unexpected.