Then, turning her eyes upon Silvere, who with a glance of ecstasy had followed the child as she ran off in the bright sunshine, she simply added: "Take care, my boy; this sort of thing sometimes kills one." These were the only words she spoke with reference to the incident which had awakened all the sorrows that lay slumbering in the depths of her being.

Silence had become a real religion with her.

When Silvere came in, she double-locked the door, and threw the key down the well.

In this wise she felt certain that the door would no longer make her an accomplice.

She examined it for a moment, glad at seeing it reassume its usual gloomy, barrier-like aspect.