He sprang to meet her with outstretched arms.

Something in her look made the outstretched arms fall nerveless; made his springing step pause suddenly; made the very words die away on his lips.

"O Mercy!" was all he could say, and he breathed it rather than said it.
Mercy smiled a very piteous smile, and said, "Yes, Stephen, I am here." "O Mercy, it is not you! You are not here.

What has done this to you?
Did you so love that man ?" exclaimed Stephen, a sudden pang seizing him of fiercest jealousy of the dead, whom he had never feared while he was living.
Mercy's face contracted, as if a sharp pain had wrenched every nerve.
"No, I did not love him; that is, not as you mean.

You know how very dearly I did love him, though." "Dear darling, you are all worn out.