Not a word of kindness had she spoken to him since Friday night.
Oh, what inconceivable cruelty had possessed her, that she let him go this morning without even having touched his hand! Could her mind endure this?
Was she not now and then near to delirium?
Once she went to the window, and, to her horror, could see nothing; a blue and red mist hovered before her eyes.

It left her, but other symptoms of physical distress grew from hour to hour, and she dreaded lest strength to endure might wholly forsake her before night came.

She tried to picture her father returning as usual; human pity might have spoken even in Dagworthy's heart; or if not so, then he might have been induced to forbear by a hope of winning her gratitude.

Very agony made her feel almost capable of rewarding such mercy.

For Wilfrid seemed now very far away, and her love had fallen to the background; it was not the supreme motive of her being as hitherto.