If she slept it came into her dreams, and her waking thoughts strove with hideous wilfulness to unmuffle that dead face.

When horror failed, its place was taken by a grief so intense that it shook the fabric of her being.

She had no relapse in health, but convalescence was severed from all its natural joys; she grew stronger only to mourn more passionately.

In imagination she followed her father through the hours of despair which must have ensued on his interview with Dagworthy.

She pictured his struggle between desire to return home, to find comfort among those he loved, and the bitter shame which forbade it.