At first she could not tell what it was; but as her eyes became accustomed to the light, she recognized the old coat. She sings better perhaps. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. “Annabel,” she said slowly, “if I fight this thing out myself, can I trust you that it will not be a vain sacrifice? After what you have said it is useless for us to play with words. “Is there any urgency?” The doctor bent over his patient, who seemed to have fallen asleep. You went even to our rooms and saw my sister. In vain Wood protested his innocence.
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