on the table, turned a little away in his chair, and supported his head on his hand, so that his profile only was presented to us.
“What change?” he asked. The tone in which he put the question jarred on me—there was something painfully suppressed in it.
She sighed heavily, and leaned towards me a little, so as to rest her shoulder against mine. I felt her trembling, and tried to spare her by speaking myself. She stopped me by a warning pressure of her hand, and then addressed Sir Percival one
trickled down on the stone beneath her.
“Talk of something else,” she said, whispering through her teeth. “I shall lose myself if you talk of that.”
Every vestige of the gentler thoughts which had filled her mind hardly a minute since seemed to be swept from it now. It was evident that the impression