She did not stop for at least three hundred yards.

Turning and looking back she saw at the church door a pale round light.

With another cry she sped on, and did not pause till she reached the house.
Then, bursting in and locking the door, she hurried to her room, undressed quickly, got into bed without saying her prayers, and buried her face in the pillow, shivering and overwrought.
The footsteps she had heard were those of the Cure and Jo Portugais.
The Cure had sent for Jo to do some last work upon a little altar, to be used the next day for the first time.

The carpenter and the carver in wood who were responsible for the work had fallen victims to white whiskey on the very last day of their task, and had been driven from the church by the Cure, who then sent for Jo.

Rosalie had not seen the light at the shrine, as it was on the side of the church farthest from the village.
Their labour finished, the two came towards the front door, the Cure's lantern in his hand.