Her face was not hidden: it was cold and pure and still, like carven marble.

I stood and gazed at her a moment; then, as she did not offer to move, I brought wood to the fire and made the forlorn room bright again.
"Where is Rolfe ?" I asked at last.
"He would have stayed," she answered, "but I made him go.

I wished to be alone." She rose, and going to the window leaned her forehead against the bars, and looked out upon the wild sky and the hurrying river.

"I would I were alone," she said in a low voice and with a catch of her breath.

As she stood there in the twilight by the window, I knew that she was weeping, though her pride strove to keep that knowledge from me.
My heart ached for her, and I knew not how to comfort her.