I know it ought not to look on such as me.

Miss Mary!--my God, be merciful!--she is leaving me!" Miss Mary had risen and, in the gathering twilight, had felt her way to the open window.

She stood there, leaning against the casement, her eyes fixed on the last rosy tints that were fading from the western sky.
There was still some of its light on her pure young forehead, on her white collar, on her clasped white hands, but all fading slowly away.
The suppliant had dragged herself, still on her knees, beside her.
"I know it takes time to consider.

I will wait here all night; but I cannot go until you speak.

Do not deny me now.