Hers was very cold, and her voice trembled much.
"Be comforted.

He is young, and God is very merciful." She could say no more, but sat down, nervously twisting and untwisting her fingers.

There was in her looks a wild sorrow--a longing to escape from notice; but mine held her fast, mercilessly, as a snake holds a little bird.

She sat cowering, almost like a bird, a poor, broken-winged, helpless little bird--whom the storm has overtaken.
Rising, she made an attempt to quit the room.
"I will call Mrs.Jessop: she may be of use--" "She cannot.

Stay!" "Further advice, perhaps?
Doctor Jessop--you must want help--" "None save that which will never come.