You know, dearest, do you not, that--that--that my wound is mortal ?" She strove hard to control her feelings.

She bit her under lip between her teeth; she pressed her feet against the bed, and grasped the loose clothes with the hand which was disengaged.

The virtue on which her husband most prided himself was calmness and self-possession in affliction.

She knew that he now expected that virtue from her, and that nothing would so grieve him as to see her render herself weakly up to her sorrow, and she strove hard to control it; but all her exertion did not enable her to answer him.

It seemed almost miraculous to herself that she could sit there, and retain her consciousness, and hear him utter such words.