My aunt and Mr.Varick were reading--Mr.Varick had just come up from the village with this morning's London papers; Miss Farrow was doing her embroidery, and I'd just been counting some stitches in my knitting, when I looked up and saw--" She stopped, as if not able to go on.
"Was what you saw, what you took to be an apparition, close to the confessional ?" asked Sir Lyon abruptly.
"No, not so very close--still, not very far away.

It--she--seemed to be standing behind Mr.Varick, a little to his left, on the door side." "I suppose you would rather not tell me who it was you saw ?" Sir Lyon thought he knew, but he wished to feel sure.
"I don't see why I shouldn't tell you," yet she hesitated.

"It was poor Milly, Sir Lyon--I mean Mrs.Lionel Varick.

She and I became great friends during the weeks preceding her death.

She even told me that, apart from her husband, she had never cared for anyone as she grew to care for me.