She drew the curtains at last with gentle hands, and piled up the logs upon the hearth.
There was a glint of something in her eyes not altogether accounted for by the tears in them.

It was a sparkle which bespoke wounded sensibility--something approaching to anger.
"O brother, brother," she whispered, with dry lips, "how can you treat him so?
Have you a heart?
How terrible a judgment you seem to be seeking to draw down upon yourself! What will the end be like, if this is the beginning ?" The flames leapt up with a sudden ruddy glow.

The room had been dark before; now it was suddenly flooded with a brilliant palpitating light.

As Rachel turned back to the bed, she saw that her father's eyes had opened.

The mists of weakness no longer seemed to cloud his sight.