It was dim and cool inside, the only lights coming from the candles illuminating the Chancel. There were not many people there and most of them were elderly women in black.

He could see Mistral kneeling near the front. She was not wearing a hat, but her head was covered with a soft scarf of grey lace which matched her dress.

Robert hesitated, not certain what to do, a little wary of this strange service in a foreign church. Suddenly a bell tinkled, and the Priest at the Altar raised his hands. Robert did not know what was happening. He only knew that he wanted to kneel, he wanted to make an act of worship. He found himself on his knees in the back pew, his head bent, his hands clasped together in front of him. He did not understand Latin in which the service was being conducted, but somehow it was unimportant. He only knew there was a presence here in this small, dimly lit Chapel which brought him a sense of self-revelation such as he had never known before.

He saw now how bitterly he had failed his mother and the high ideals she had taught him from boyhood.

He saw how he had failed Cheveron, tarnishing a little its pride and its glory, of which he had been so proud to be responsible. He thought of all the people who worked there, of their loyalty to him and how their trust and respect meant more than anything else in the whole world. And suddenly he was no longer the important, rich Sir Robert Stanford but a humble and penitent little boy who had done a great many things that were wrong.

The bell at the Altar rang again and Robert began to repeat a prayer that he had said every night of his life at his mother’s knee until he went away to a boarding school.

‘Please God, bless Papa and Mama, my dogs and pony, and everyone at Cheveron and make me a good boy. Amen.’

He prayed then as he had never thought it possible to pray, the words unimportant, the intensity behind them coming from the very depths of his soul in absolute and complete sincerity. And when he had finished, he felt as if he waited in a strange, frightening silence for a verdict on himself. Then it seemed to him that a Hand was laid on his head and he knew he was forgiven. His repentance had been accepted, he was absolved, he was free once more to do better in the future.

With a feeling of sudden lightness and elasticity he opened his eyes. The service was over and he had not known it. The Chapel was almost empty and the lights were extinguished in the Chancel. The Priest had gone.