Mrs Sindlesham’s wrinkled cheek had paled, and her eyes were fixed upon Gerald in a look that wrung his heart. One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool. She began to think persistently of Capes, and it seemed to her now that for some weeks at least she must have been thinking persistently of him unawares. His throat filled; he wanted to weep. "It's very well you haven't crushed the poor little thing to death with this confounded clothes'-bag. ” “I may have to run,” said her father, with an appeal to his watch. “You are magnificent,” she said, “but the steel of your truth is a little oversharpened.
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