THINGS UNUTTERABLE After Philip had passed out of the room, Sylvia lay perfectly still, from very exhaustion.

Her mother slept on, happily unconscious of all the turmoil that had taken place; yes, happily, though the heavy sleep was to end in death.

But of this her daughter knew nothing, imagining that it was refreshing slumber, instead of an ebbing of life.

Both mother and daughter lay motionless till Phoebe entered the room to tell Sylvia that dinner was on the table.
Then Sylvia sate up, and put back her hair, bewildered and uncertain as to what was to be done next; how she should meet the husband to whom she had discarded all allegiance, repudiated the solemn promise of love and obedience which she had vowed.
Phoebe came into the room, with natural interest in the invalid, scarcely older than herself.
'How is t' old lady ?' asked she, in a low voice.
Sylvia turned her head round to look; her mother had never moved, but was breathing in a loud uncomfortable manner, that made her stoop over her to see the averted face more nearly.
'Phoebe!' she cried, 'come here! She looks strange and odd; her eyes are open, but don't see me.

Phoebe! Phoebe!' 'Sure enough, she's in a bad way!' said Phoebe, climbing stiffly on to the bed to have a nearer view.