Mrs.Wade's voice came from a distance; and it was not a voice of true sympathy, but of veiled upbraiding.

Unspeakably remote was the image of the man she loved, and he moved still away from her.

A cloud of pain fell between her and all the kindly world.
In these nights of sleepless misery she had thought of her old home.
The relatives from whom she was for ever parted--her sister, her kind old aunt--looked at her with reproachful eyes; and now, in anguish which bordered upon delirium, it was they alone who seemed real to her; all her recent life had become a vague suffering, a confused consciousness of desire and terror.

Her childhood returned; she saw her parents and heard them talk.

A longing for the peace and love of those dead days rent her heart.
She could neither speak nor move.