Presently he saw enter through the sunlit street doorway a person of a different class.The bright light shone for a passing instant upon a fashionable, flowered hat, and upon some remarkably brilliant shade of red hair beneath it.In another moment there had edged along through the throng, to almost within touch of him, a tall young woman, the owner of this hat and wonderful hair.
She was clad in light and pleasing spring attire, and carried a parasol with a long oxidized silver handle of a quaint pattern.She looked at him, and he saw that her face was of a lengthened oval, with a luminous rose-tinted skin, full red lips, and big brown, frank eyes with heavy auburn lashes.
She made a grave little inclination of her head toward him, and he bowed in response.Since her arrival, he noted, the chattering of the others had entirely ceased.
"I followed the others in, in the hope that I might be of some assistance," he ventured to explain to her in a low murmur, feeling that at last here was some one to whom an explanation of his presence in this Romish house was due.
"I hope they won't feel that I have intruded."She nodded her head as if she quite understood.
"They'll take the will for the deed," she whispered back.
"Father Forbes will be here in a minute.Do you know is it too late?"Even as she spoke, the outer doorway was darkened by the commanding bulk of a newcomer's figure.The flash of a silk hat, and the deferential way in which the assembled neighbors fell back to clear a passage, made his identity clear.
Theron felt his blood tingle in an unaccustomed way as this priest of a strange church advanced across the room--a broad-shouldered, portly man of more than middle height, with a shapely, strong-lined face of almost waxen pallor, and a firm, commanding tread.He carried in his hands, besides his hat, a small leather-bound case.To this and to him the women courtesied and bowed their heads as he passed.