“You are a holy man…”
Her composure breaks as the minor miracle surges through her. She goes to one knee, pushing the table forward as she does with a grating sound as cups of tea rattle on their saucers.
She Kneels before you, leaning over the low table, which is awkwardly between you, pressing her face against your hand, hiding her face, but you feel the warm flood of tears, and her body begins to tremble. Her next words are forced, as what little composure she has left holds back a flood of emotion
“Please, I, I wish to be alone with this priest…please leave us”
The plea seems to be directed at everyone, including her gasping man servant who can only manage “My Lady…” before eyeing you all imperiously, as if to say, do as she says!