She paused at the foot of it.
'You will come in and see my mother, Mr.Elsmere ?' Her look expressed a yearning she could not crush.

'Your pardon, your friendship,' it cried, with the usual futility of all good women under the circumstances.

But as he met it for one passionate instant, he recognized fully that there was not a trace of yielding in it.

At the bottom of the softness there was the iron of resolution.
'No, no; not now,' he said involuntarily; and she never forgot the painful struggle of the face; 'good-by.' He touched her hand without another word, and was gone.
She toiled up to the gate with difficulty; the gray rain-washed road, the wall, the trees, swimming before her eyes.
In the hall she came across Agnes, who caught hold of her with a start.
'My dear Cathie! you have been walking yourself to death.

You look like a ghost.