A young girl, not over seventeen, tall like her mother, very fair, with a face just subdued into something of womanly seriousness, stood in the door, as I turned at mention of her presence.
A single lamp gave its feeble light to the room, only half subduing the shadows that went creeping into corners and recesses.

Something of a weird aspect was on every thing; and I could not but gaze at the two strangers in that strange place to them, under such peculiar circumstances, and wonder to see them so calm, dignified, and self-possessed.

We sat down by the table on which the lamp was standing, the elder of the two opposite, and the younger a little turned away, so that her features were nearly concealed.
"Blanche," said the former, "the Doctor wishes to know the particular incidents connected with the death of Mrs.Allen." I thought there was an uneasy movement on the part of the girl.

She did not reply.

There was a pause.
"The facts are simply these, Doctor," and the mother looked me steadily in the face, which stood out clear, as the lamp shone full on every feature.